


Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

by CryingCinderella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Play, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Double Penetration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fetish, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Education, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Spanking, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, Whipping, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 335,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryingCinderella/pseuds/CryingCinderella
Summary: Determined to carry on his brother's legacy, George puts an advertisement in The Prophet to find a male and female test subject for a new line of adult novelty products. The two that show up might just cause him to quit the business.





	1. Answering The Advertisement

She wasn’t sure which was tighter; the fist that held the crumpled flier or the terse scowl upon her lips. “But you’ve already said that—”

 

“No, no, I’m sorry— I know what I said, Hermione, but no.” George Weasley, who was looking slightly more than flabbergasted stood in the back office of the shop that he and his brother had made into a booming success. It was ten ‘til six and he’d just closed the shop twenty minutes prior. His gaze was hardly as stern as it needed to be and when Hermione Granger did not move from the doorway of the back office he sighed. “Hermione…”

 

“You’ve already said that no one else responded to the advertisement except Ginny! How could I possibly be more awkward than your sister?” she accused him, her voice hot and bothered as she tugged slightly at the collar of her robes. The tiny back office was quite warm; a side-effect of one of the newer products that a customer had been testing just before the shop had closed for the day. “I’m not related!”

 

“I know that!” George cried. “But you almost were— and mum still thinks of you as—”

 

“There is no reason why your mother has to know that I’m the girl you hired to test out this new line, George.” Her firm tone seemed to floor him into silence, at least momentarily. She slowly unclenched her fist from around the crumpled piece of paper she’d ripped from the back of The Daily Prophet. “Seeking— one mature witch willing to be a test sample for a line of adult novelty products. Must be at least twenty-one, comfortable working naked, and being seen by two males. Must not object to working with hired male partner,” she read it over. “Pay will be discussed upon inquiry of the proprietor of the—”

 

“I know what the bloody ad says, Hermione. I put it in there,” he said. George shook his head. “Look, I just— it can’t be you, alright?”

 

“Well why the hell not, George?” Hermione crossed her arms in indignation, looking even more furious than she had the moment before. She met the qualifications; she was old enough, far more mature than most witches her age, and while she wasn’t particularly comfortable naked, it was George and after all, he had turned out to be gay. She couldn’t fathom a single reason why she wouldn’t suit exactly what the advertisement had asked for.

 

“You’re just— Hermione, you were almost my sister. So it’s like having Ginny respond to the ad, only— it’s you.” George shook his head. He was shocked and had nearly choked on the toffee he had been testing when his sister had shown up in response to the ad. And when she’d discovered that he had placed it and not one of his clients she quickly decided against it. “And besides, you and Ron—”

 

“Are over, George.” Her voice leveled off into a more serious flat sound. “We’re not getting back together, at this point we’ll be lucky if we can salvage a friendship out of the mess.” They’d been split for nearly a year and despite his many attempts to rekindle a romantic flame with her, Ronald Weasley had only managed to push her further and further away. “There’s no chance that I’m going to become your sister unless Ginny ditches Harry and becomes a lesbian or you go straight and take me on,” she said with a bit of a teasing grin playing at the corners of her lips. “And I’m not likely to become a lesbian just because my best friend’s girlfriend wants me to…and you’re not likely to go straight,” she added.

 

George rolled his eyes. “There’s still Charlie, you know.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Charlie’s too old. And besides when is he ever around to be picking up anyone let alone me?”

 

George frowned at this. “You think Charlie’s too old?” he asked.

 

Hermione paused for a moment and tilted her head to the side. “I don’t rightly know how old he is, come to think of it,” she said, pondering her vast knowledge of all facts that were Weasley related. “I imagine he’s nine or ten years older than me,” she said with a slight shrug.

 

“He’s actually only about seven,” George corrected her. “Does age matter all that much to you?” he asked seeming oddly curious.

 

Again she found herself pausing, pondering this notion over in her mind. “Well, I suppose it would depend on the bloke, I certainly wouldn’t go mucking around with someone Dumbledore’s age,” she said and smiled a bit. “But I suppose seven isn’t so bad…it’s not even a full decade.”

 

“How about nineteen years?”

 

This brought a slight frown to her lips. “Which one of your brothers is nineteen years my senior— surely not Bill…he’s only two years older than Charlie, I thought…or maybe I’m wrong,” she said, letting a puzzled look sweep across her face, her brow furrowed in concentration as she again dug back in her file of notes on Weasley facts.

 

“No, not Bill,” he shook his head and then sighed. “The bloke who responded to the male side of the ad. The one you’ll be working with alongside me in testing out this line of products.”

 

“I didn’t know there was a male advertisement, but I suppose that makes sense considering—” Hermione’s words screeched to a halt and her eyes widened considerably. “You mean you’ll hire me?” she asked, practically gushing with giddiness. “Oh, George!” she surged forward, throwing her arms around his larger frame, squeezing him tightly as she did. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! You’ve no idea! Honest!” she grinned.

 

George ran a hand through his hair. It needed trimming but his mind was focused on other things. “You say that now, but you haven’t met your…co-worker, for lack of better words,” he muttered. “You can start tonight if you like; he’s already upstairs in the workshop.”

 

“Oh!” Hermione seemed a bit surprised to hear this. She hadn’t realized it would be a hire on the spot job but she had no plans outstanding for the evening. “That’s fine, should we discuss salary?” she asked.

 

“Right, sure,” he said and then nodded for her to move out of the doorway of the back office. “Thirty galleons for every evening you spend testing products, Fred had a load of them all lined up- he had a complete line everything you could think of…for women, for men, for couples…it’s incredible…and if they work, I’m not sure what phase some of them are in, some of them may still need work, others are just ideas that I’m going to have to put together and having you two to model them around will help,” he rambled slightly as he lead her across the shop to the large spiraling staircase that led up to the second level. “But thirty galleons every night we test, and if you’re able I’d like to do it more weekends than not…probably not Saturdays as the shop is open from nine 'til nine and after being here twelve hours all I want to do is hit the sac when I’ve finished.”

 

Hermione nodded her head, listening to him, drinking in every word he said. She would worry about not being so embarrassed later. Her mind was working double time, thinking about how her body might respond to these products and what her partner, whom she had yet to meet, would think of her or how his body would respond. All of this plus listening to George caused her to plow right into his backside when he stopped abruptly at the top of the steps. “Sorry,” she muttered.

 

He waved it off and then nodded to the little alcove just across the floor from the landing. “I’ve been remodeling that space there. It was a storage closet…but now it’s going to be the home of the adult line…with glowing beaded curtains and an age charm similar to what Dumbledore used for keeping us out of the Goblet of Fire.”

 

“Brilliant,” she said with a grin. She followed him across the top floor of the store where some of the larger novelty items were kept, moving all the way across and over to a much tinier straighter and far more narrow staircase that led up. “Isn’t that where your flat is?” she asked.

 

“Yes, but you’ll notice halfway up,” he gestured. “That door that shouldn’t rightly be there. That’s the workshop. All of our products that we’re developing and testing and tinkering with are kept in there. It’s really quite spacious, if a bit cluttered at the moment. But I’ve gotten all of the adult products organized into boxes and categories, or at least as many as I’ve found so far,” he said.

 

She nodded. “And he’s there?” she asked, curiosity punctuating her voice.

 

“Who?”

 

“My…co-worker, as you called him. He’s up there? In the workshop?”

 

“Oh, right. Yes, he is. He got here about an hour before closing…and as he was the only one to respond to the male ad…I’ve had it out nearly a month now…well, like you, what other choice did I have?” he shrugged.

 

This made her frown slightly. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d been picked because she had been the only applicant to the position aside from his sister. A job was a job however she had ended up qualifying for it. “I still don’t understand why you aren’t testing these products yourself, George.”

 

As he reached the half landing that led into the door to the workshop he paused and turned to face her with the first grin he’d worn since she initially entered the shop just as he was closing up. “Most of these products are designed for women and couples, and I know fuck all about what looks good on women, and I’m hard pressed to find a date as it is…let alone bring him up to the workshop to nut around with toys and novelty stuff,” he shrugged with his lopsided grin fading just slightly. “And whatever I try on me I might think is great…or garish when in reality it might be horrid or brilliant. Second and third set of eyes never hurts.”

 

His reasoning made sense and she simply nodded her head, following him into the workshop. It was much larger than the placement of the door made seem possible. But she grinned as she stepped through the doorway and into the vastly cavernous space. “This is incredible,” she murmured, eyes darting to and fro not sure what to focus on first. There were shelves stacked high with all sorts of prototypes and models, jars of ingredients, boxes of things, several large work tables, design charts and a large drafting desk. Her eyes were glancing about so quickly, moving from one thing to the next with eager fascination that she did not notice the tall man approach them until he’d addressed them.

 

“Mr. Weasley,” he said his voice a low flat sound that nearly made Hermione jump out of her skin.

 

“Professor?” she cried in sheer surprise, unable to hide her startled response as her eyes grew even wider. “What on earth are you doing up here?” she asked, realizing the stupidity of the question the moment after it had left her lips.

 

For a moment silence hung in the air. And George was about to intercede but Severus Snape raised his hand slightly, a subtle dismissal to the redhead and then he nodded to Hermione. His voice lacked its usual acerbic bite and when he spoke it was rather plainly. “I imagine, Miss Granger, the same thing that you are, responding to Mr. Weasley’s advertisement,” he nodded to George. “And the title hardly applies any longer,” he added.

 

“Erm,” she blushed furiously, turning to glance pleadingly at George. “Right,” she said. “Sorry.”

 

George couldn’t help but grin a bit as he looked at Hermione. “Hermione Granger, I’m sure you already know, Severus Snape,” he said making semi-formal introductions. Nobody extended hands to be shaken. George took a careful step around Hermione and then walked over to a clearing near one of the mostly empty work tables. “This is going to be our primary working station,” he said. “I’ve got a few products all ready and lined up for testing tonight, actually if you two want to get started,” he said, and then moved over to what looked like a makeshift chest of drawers that had been drawn out of chalk and somehow erected into the third dimension of existence.

 

Hermione was frozen to her spot, unable to take her eyes off of the tall and surly man who stood before her. Though she noted absently in the recesses of her mind that he didn’t seem so surly, if anything he looked slightly nervous. He was donned in the only thing she had ever seen the man wear; many high collared, long-sleeved layers of black. From the tight cuffs that covered his wrists right up to the base of his hand all the way down to the tightly laced black boots he was cloaked in the ebony color; leaving only his hands and his face exposed to the room’s light.

 

“Come on then,” George said and pulled open the first drawer on the chest, rummaging around in it for a moment. He paused and walked across the workshop to the drafting table, picking up a large leather-bound tome that had loose pages tucked into it everywhere. He summoned a quill and a pot of no-tip ink and set them both on the edge of the table, flipping the book open to a blank chart. “This is so I can record product description, take notes, make notes about modifications and such…get your reaction, and yours,” he nodded to Severus and then set the quill in the pot of ink before returning to the drawer.

 

Hermione watched as her former Potions professor glided across the room, stopping just at the edge of the work table. That was the first things she noticed to be slightly off about the man; there was no billowing black cloak in his wake as he had walked. In fact she noticed that his outermost layer of clothing appeared to be the long black frock coat which he wore under his teaching robes on days when they were brewing potions. She tried to think back to the last time she had seen him in the potions classroom and she found her mind to be slightly fuzzy.

 

After a moment she realized that as she had been lost in her thoughts they were now both staring at her, waiting for her to join them. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I was thinking about something,” she said, not bothering to explain what. Quick steps that were not the long elegant sweeping gait of her former professor brought her over to stand just beside the man, expectant eyes looking at George.

 

“I don’t really have a method to my order,” he shrugged. “I’ve sorted products into three categories…completed needs testing…mostly completed…and needs work,” he said gesturing to the chest behind him. “This chest has completed and mostly completed— or that’s the assumption I’m making based on Fred’s notes,” he said and pulled a large green book from a nearby shelf. “This was the log he was keeping for product development of the adult line,” he said and placed it down on the tabletop beside the large charting ledger. “So it should make things a bit easier.”

 

“Indeed,” said Severus. It was the first thing he had said since addressing her a few moments prior. “And I presume payment will be made upon completion of tonight’s testing?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” said George and then he drew his wand from his back pocket, summoning over three wooden stools. He took one and slid it under his backside before sitting down on it. “Severus, you can have a seat, this first product is a lady’s product,” he said nodding to Hermione.

 

She did her best not to blush. Of course it is, she thought. “Right…so…how do I…” Hermione trailed off, her voice far more level than she’d imagined it would be.

 

George reached up into the drawer and pulled out three jars of what looked like finger paint. “Er…mostly a lady’s product,” he said and looked at Severus. The dour man simply nodded his head, an understanding passing between the two men that Hermione found she did not like in the least. It made her uneasy, more so than the notion of having to potentially be naked in front of her former professor.

 

George flipped through the pages of the green book and landed in an intricate two page entry about the three little pots of colored paint that now sat before him in the middle of the table. “Novelty Nipple Mousse,” he said, reading the title from where Fred had scrawled it into the pages of the book. “Designed to titillate and tease turning your lovers nipples crazy colors and funky flavors,” he said and frowned. “Perhaps that she be reworded to fantastic flavors…I don’t know that people want to think about tasting anything funky in the bedroom,” he made a quick note of this in the green book before nodding to the three jars.

 

Hermione could already feel her heart racing. But she needed the money and so drawing in a deep breath she reached forward and picked up the jar of sprightly green colored paint. “How does this work?” she asked, turning over the little pot in her hand several times. It was sealed with a silver screw lid and otherwise unmarked.

 

George flipped the page in the green book and skimmed the information. “Rub a small amount into the area of nipple and areola and it should effectively turn the nipple and areola the color that you see…with a corresponding flavor,” he traced his finger over the page. “This says lime. And then lime is crossed out with a single line and it says mint. And then mint is scratched through with several marks and it says lime/mint with a question mark behind it.” George frowned. “Leave it to Fred not to be able to make up his mind.”

 

Severus had taken a seat on the stool and was facing George with Hermione standing between them. “Right then,” she said trying not to look over to her co-worker as she set the little pot back on the table. “And the other two?” she asked nodding to the bright gold and fluorescent pink pots.

 

“Well let’s test the one first and we’ll see what they’re meant to be, this could be total rubbish and not work at all,” he said with a shrug.

 

“Right,” Hermione repeated herself and then drew in another deep trembling breath. Closing her eyes she slowly pulled the jumper up over her body and handed the blue garment to George. He tossed it behind him, an extendable arm of a hook that had been mounted to the wall reached out and caught it. She was nervous but tried not to let her nerves show as she slowly peeled her white shirt up over her frame, revealing her torso to both men. While it would have been a little odd being topless in front of George it was terribly embarrassing to think that she was about to be so in front of Severus Snape.

 

The room was silent save for her rapid breathing, which she tried to calm so that her chest was not heaving quite so hard. Trembling fingers moved to hand him her shirt, which George tossed behind him to join her jumper. Hermione closed her eyes, reaching up behind her to deftly unhook the three metal clasps of her bra. She was not by any means a large-breasted woman; 34-B at best, though her breasts were perky. As she carefully slid out of the bra and watched it join her other clothing she couldn’t help but glance over to her former professor.

 

Much to her surprise he was not staring at her now naked torso. Severus Snape was sitting with his hands folded neatly in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, eyes gazing at his fingers. This allowed her a little relief as she turned and unscrewed the green pot lid. The contents inside looked like thick whipped cream only in a rich shade of emerald green. Dipping one finger into the stuff she scooped a glop of it up and brought it beneath her nose, inhaling gently. “There’s no scent,” she frowned.

 

George shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe there isn’t a scent because he couldn’t decide between mint or lime,” he said and then gazed at Hermione expectantly.

 

She rubbed her finger in slow deliberate circles around her areola, crossing over her nipple a few times until the mousse had absorbed into her skin. Immediately her nipple was stiffened from the contact, a taut pebble standing perky forward; and it was indeed a rich emerald shade of green.

 

“That’s a good start,” he said. “We’ll use that nipple for the single effects, and then we can test layering on your right nipple,” he said as if it were the most common thing to say to someone who was half naked and painting herself with novelty sex cream. “Severus?” he asked.

 

He lifted his head to gaze at her breast and in that moment Hermione felt her whole body heat under his simple scrutiny. She tilted her head upward slightly so that she didn’t have to watch him examining her. The stool scraped lightly against the hardwood floor as he stood and took the four steps to stand directly in front of her. Hermione gasped slightly but quickly forced her lips shut as his large rough palm slid under her breast and lifted it as if it were a piece of fruit he were examining at the grocer.

 

Her whole body tingled from his touch; the rough calluses of his palm stimulating the underside of her breast as his fingers curled against the side. She held her breath as he continued to gaze at her now shiny emerald nipple and areola. “Its coloration is even, not splotchy and it doesn’t smear outside the line of the areola,” he said. Her lungs burned as she continued to hold her breath, but her whole body stiffened as he placed the pad of his slender index finger at the top of her areola and slowly traced it around the circumference. Pulling his finger back, Severus gazed at it momentarily. “It it does appear to stay in place, no smearing or transfer.”

 

“Right,” George said, furiously scribbling every word spoken into the large charting ledger. “Appealing color?”

 

“For her coloration, yes, it offsets the darkness of her hair and eyes,” he said flatly.

 

Hermione was nearly dizzy and beside herself. Had he just complimented her? It was then she realized she’d still been holding her breath and not wanting to blackout she slowly exhaled through the corner of her mouth, her lungs tingling as she then inhaled once more. His hand slid back from her and her breast rested once more in its natural position against her chest.

 

“What does it taste like?” George asked, looking up from the ledger.

 

Hermione flushed. She hadn’t thought to stick her finger against her tongue before smearing it over her nipple. She shifted slightly to reach for the pot but froze entirely as she watched Severus Snape slowly lean forward, and then press one hand to the side of her breast, half cupping it upward. It happened in slow motion right before her very eyes and she still did not believe it. The brush of the tip of his nose against the soft malleable flesh of her breast, the slight exhale of his warm breath shooting across her skin and then his lips, thin but firm, slowly closing around her areola, tugging it slightly forward into his mouth. She inhaled sharply, shocked as the flat of his tongue slipped a slow circle around her nipple, once and then again in the opposite direction.

 

Slowly he pulled back, catching her eyes for a fleeting second before turning to face George. “Nothing,” he said. “No hint of mint or lime, not even a chemical or product residue,” he said.

 

More scratching of the quill to the paper filled her ear but she could hardly hear it for the blood thrumming through her ears. Her nipple was slightly moist, glistening not only from the emerald coloring but from the slight pass of his tongue. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she shivered. George’s voice broke her reverie. “I’ll have to work on that one,” he said. “I think mint would be more satisfying…but that’s just me,” he shrugged.

 

“Lime would have to be sweetened in order to not leave a bitter taste in one’s mouth…and sugary lime flavor tends to taste fake, in my opinion,” Severus said. George nodded his thanks and made a note of this as well.

 

“Here,” he said, waving his wand and summoning a little clear plastic spray bottle with a white kerchief. “This is an all-purpose solvent of sorts, one spritz, wipe with the cloth and the green should go away,” he said and then handed the bottle and the cloth to Hermione.

 

Her fingers trembled as she took them, but her body seemed to be on autopilot as she sprayed the nozzle against her nipple and then wiped away the green coloring completely in just one pass of the kerchief. “Right,” she said, voice as shaky as her hands. “Should I do the— the gold or the pink?” she asked. She was certain her cheeks were flushing and even more certain that at any moment her former professor was going to mock her.

 

But he said nothing and the next words to break the silence of the room were George’s, telling her to try the gold one next. Unscrewing the gold lid she repeated the process of rubbing it into her nipple watching as the pigmentation of her areola and the taut little bud changed to a shimmering gold hue.

 

“This one is not as strong a color, it’s more like gold glitter than gold color,” Severus said as he once again slid his hand under her breast, his shoulder— clad in all its dark layers— brushing against her naked one. He traced his finger across her nipple, noting with a nod that the color did not stain him. “It is not unattractive but would be better suited if it were more solid and less…shimmery…or glittery, what have you,” he said and then gazed over her shoulder at George. “Does it have a listed flavor?”

 

“Honey.”

 

Again Hermione found herself holding her breath as he slowly lowered his head to her breast. It was an inhale of his lips that stole the heat from across the top of her breast, causing her to shiver and then jolt slightly when he pressed his lips once again over her sensitive nipple. His tongue was slow and deliberate as it crossed over her nipple, pausing to gently lap at the bud before he pulled back entirely.

 

“Honey?” George asked hopefully.

 

“Not so much,” Severus frowned. “It is sweet, a definite flavor…but it tastes more like sugar with a faint cake like quality to it…perhaps baking sugar mixed with flour or eggs,” he said. “But not honey.”

 

“Hrm…” George was nibbling thoughtfully on the tip of his quill. “Can you make that description less vague?” he asked. “Instead of trying to reformulate…maybe I can just remarket,” he said. “Sugary cake?” he asked. “Though that sounds dreadful.”

 

Severus paused a moment, again catching Hermione’s eye for the briefest of glimpses, not lingering in her gaze long enough for her to read anything in his own eyes. And then he lowered his head once more. The sudden assault of his tongue sweeping circles over her nipple caught her off-guard and she squeaked slightly. He pulled back almost instantly and frowned gazing up at her. “Sorry,” he said. “I did not mean for that to cause discomfort.”

 

Discomfort my arse, she thought trying desperately not to blush. “It’s— it’s fine, just wasn’t prepared,” she said sheepishly, and then quickly turned her head to gaze at George, eyes closed, lips forced solidly together. But her lips parted into the subtlest of o-rings as she felt his tongue once more, this time slow wide licks over the area of her areola, ignoring her nipple entirely. Stop thinking about why he’s ignoring your nipple this is product testing not pleasure Hermione 101. Her mind was indeed being cruel but thankfully a moment later his deliciously velvet tongue had been removed from her breast and she was all too eager to grab the spray bottle and cloth, wiping away the golden glitter color.

 

“I think with a bit more substance, a hint of vanilla and a touch less sugar you might be able to get away with calling it something like Cake Batter or Golden Cake,” Severus’s voice was low but even as he addressed George.

 

“Right,” said George, who was completely un-phased by the extremely sexual display he’d just witnessed. As if that sort of thing occurred regularly in his shop’s workshop; he continued to make notes in both the ledger and the green book. “Pink now, please,” he said and then nodded to Hermione. “You’re doing great, are you feeling alright? Both of you?” he asked.

 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, hoping that her slight smile was convincing. She wasn’t sure which disturbed her more; the fact that Severus Snape, her former professor, had just been laving his tongue over her pebbled nipple or the fact that her body seemed to very much enjoy the attention she had received. “Actually, do you have water, my throat’s a bit dry,” she said.

 

“Of course,” George waved his wand and summoned her a glass of water, which she drank all too greedily. “And you’re alright?” he asked looking at Severus. The man only nodded his head and then stood back a step to allow Hermione room to apply the pink mousse.

 

This mousse was particularly garish in her opinion; who in their right mind wanted hot pink nipples? But she kept her mouth shut and simply gazed at Severus who thankfully seemed to be of the same opinion. “I personally do not find the appeal to fluorescent pink nipples, but to each their own,” he shrugged his shoulders and gently ran his finger around the perimeter of her areola. And then he frowned. “This one smears a bit,” he said. “Not as solid as the first two.” 

 

George continued to scribble in the ledger and then glanced over into the green book. “Watermelon— watermelon?” he asked, gazing at her brothers notes as if he half expected Fred to pop up from the book and explain the bizarre pairing of color and flavor. “Well, watermelon, then,” he said.

 

Hermione had closed her eyes, not trusting herself to watch him as he slowly lowered his head to her breast, this time pausing a moment, his nose brushing slightly against her areola as he inhaled. “It has a slight plastic fruit scent to it, whereas the others did not,” he said and then ever so slowly he tilted his head to the side and carefully drew his tongue across her nipple without bringing his lips around her areola as he had done before. He pulled back nearly immediately, frowning. “It has a chemical residue to it; plastic fruit and paint,” he said with a slight hint of disgust in his voice.

 

“Bullocks,” George hissed and then shook his head. “Bloody Fred and bloody watermelon,” he muttered. “It’s one of the hardest flavors to capture naturally in any sort of confection or product,” he muttered more to himself than to the two of them.

 

Hermione blushed a bit as Severus straightened up. “You’ve got a spot of pink just there,” he said gesturing toward the side of his nose.

 

“It figures,” he muttered and then took the kerchief that she had been using to clear the mousse with and sprayed it lightly with the clear plastic spray bottle. He dabbed it gently against his nose and the pink vanished from his skin. “Here,” he said and then handed her the cloth, their fingers brushing together for a moment.

 

Tingles shot up her spine as she felt his fingers; that almost nonexistent touch and then his hand was gone as if it had never been there. She wiped her nipple clear of the pink mousse and then turned to look at George. “You said something about layering on my right nipple?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“No no, we’ll have to save that for when I’ve gotten these three more solidified. It won’t do me any good to see if they layer properly when the first one doesn’t have a flavor the second one’s coloring and flavor is off and the third one is basically bunk,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “You can slip your shirt back on if you want while I make a few notes,” he said.

 

Hermione had darted almost immediately over to the hook that held her clothes. Foregoing the bra she slipped back into the simple white blouse and then crossed her arms over her chest, feeling better with the layer covering her body.

 

“Suggestion?” Severus said idly, having completely ignored her abrupt departure.

 

“Hmm?” George asked, not looking up from his quill.

 

“The emerald one was very lovely on its own I’m not entirely sure it needs a fragrance or flavor…especially given the disappointment of the flavors of the other two,” he said.

 

George sighed. “I’ll note that…maybe just basic colors at first, though it’ll be good to have them tested like this— there’s nothing worse than something like this that ends up tasting like the pink one did,” he said and then carefully pulled the three pots toward him, resealing them and then marking them on the top with the quill. “Alright…um, another one for you, Hermione, but more assistance from Severus,” he said and turned around and began to dig in the drawer.

 

Hermione walked back over to the table. She paused a moment and looked at George. “I need to take my shirt back off, don’t I?” she asked.

 

“Actually, no you can leave it on, this is a product intended for downstairs,” he paused after a moment and then gave her a slightly worried glance. “Hermione, how do you wear yourself downstairs?”

 

She flushed furiously at this question, turning her head to the side so that she no longer had to look at him. Drawing in a steadying breath despite the burning heat in her cheeks she tilted her head slowly back toward George. “Erm, natural, I suppose?” she whispered, her voice squeaking slightly.

 

“Good,” he said and made a note in the ledger. “This will certainly spice that up then,” he said with a bit of a smile on his lips as he reached into the same open drawer and pulled out a long slender black box. Lifting the lid he revealed the contents to them both. Four little plastic vials; three of them with various things inside, and a specialized nozzle on the top, the fourth bottle having a clear fluid in it. A long slender fine toothed brush that curve slightly with a connector nozzle on the handle rested atop them in the box.

 

“Oh my,” she said. “Styling products for— for downstairs?” she asked a bit incredulously, her question doing little to quell the already furious blush in her cheeks.

 

“Not exactly, well, sort of, novelty styling— well, here,” he said and began to read the description Fred had logged in the green book. “Fantasy Feathers Comb and Color…don’t ask why it’s called Fantasy Feathers I honestly think Fred just liked the letter ‘F’,” he paused a moment, cleared his throat and continued to read. “A delightful way to spice it up for your lover, simply attach one of the unique design vials to the comb, work through your lady locks and voila!” George chuckled. “And it says men’s line coming soon…and now that I think about it, I recall seeing a box like that— hang on,” he hopped up from the stool and moved across the workshop to the far side, rummaging through a large trunk on the floor.

 

“Well…this will be…erm, interesting,” Hermione said still unable to look Severus in the eye.

 

“Indeed,” he said without so much of a hint of emotion in his voice.

 

George returned a moment later with an identical box only this one had a large golden male symbol etched into the box lid. “Right, we can test them together, two for one and that way I’ll know what needs work without having to come back to it later,” he said. Severus simply nodded. “You do have hair downstairs as well then?” he asked.

 

He didn’t spoke, only nodded his head again and then slowly brought his fingers to the black belt and silver clasp that held it in place. Each meticulous movement brought him one step closer to having his trousers undone. Hermione turned around, blushing more then, certain that her face was bright pink, perhaps even the same color as the failed watermelon mousse. George’s voice stopped them both.

 

“We’ll do Hermione first since this product line was developed first…there’s no sense in getting you both mucked up if the ones he created initially for women don’t work out,” he said and then nodded to the table. “Take your jeans and knickers off and hop up on the table when you’re ready, Hermione.”

 

She swallowed hard. It had been one thing for them to see her breasts; Severus having to touch and lick at her nipples, but to expose herself in her most private area; that made her squirm uncomfortably for a moment. You need the money, you need the money, you need the money, her mind chided her and slowly she popped the button on her jeans and shimmied out of them. Her white blouse was a bit longer and with a simple charm she hiked it up and held it in place above her naval. This left her standing in a pair of plain white knickers. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth she sunk her canine down into the plump petal and slowly pulled her knickers down, stepping out of them and hopping immediately up onto the table.

 

“Great,” said George, as if he was a doctor in a gynecologist’s office. “Now, Severus, take the stool, and, Hermione, spread your thighs a bit so he can sit between them,” he said. She tipped her head back trying to make the flush flee her cheeks as she slowly parted her thighs, praying silently that he wouldn’t comment on the fact that she was slightly damp. But if he noticed or cared he didn’t make mention of it as he dragged the stool over to the table and sat on it with her thighs spread widely on either side of his body.

 

“Is there a particular order in which this should be done?” he asked, plucking the plastic brush from the box. He picked up the first vial, a bottle of sky blue glossy fluid and carefully snapped it into place on the brush. “First one first?” he asked.

 

“Sure,” said George with a shrug, watching as Severus slowly brought the brush up to the top of Hermione’s pubic curls. Indeed she was natural, long thick curls covering her mound entirely but not wild and unruly. A long languid stroke of the brush from the top of her mound down to her lips had her shifting a bit. “What’s the matter?” George asked.

 

“It tickles a bit,” she blushed, trying to sit still as Severus began to stroke the brush once more through her pubic locks.

 

“It’s not tugging or catching?” George asked, once more his face buried in the ledger.

 

“No…it just…ooh!” she cried as she glanced down at her mound. Severus had placed the plastic brush beside her on the table. “Oh Merlin,” she muttered, flushing again. Her pubic curls were no longer the dark brown color of the hair upon her head but a bright whimsical blue, the same shade as faerie floss. “Now that’s just silly,” she muttered.

 

Hermione was shocked when she noted the slight smile tugging at the corners of Severus’s lips. He turned his head to George. “This one should be aptly called Cotton Candy Cunt,” he said with a bit of a smirk. Hermione gasped and George snorted.

 

“Bit crass, but I’ll give it a think,” he said and then continued scribbling in his ledger. “Does it change the texture any?” he asked.

 

Severus glanced up at her, catching her eyes and holding her gaze for a moment as if asking for permission, despite having licked at her breasts and brushed hair dye through her sex without so much as batting an eye. But after a moment of his intense gaze she nodded her head and he slowly brought his hand up to rest against her mound. Severus raked his fingers gently through her curls and then closed his eyes. “It’s very wispy…soft, rather like down, actually,” he said. “I’m not sure whether that is accurate though, I didn’t think to feel her before we started,” he said.

 

Brushing his hand aside Hermione touched her brightly colored pubic hair and blushed a bit, a soft giggle escaping her lips. “It is rather…erm…like you said, like down,” she could feel her cheeks staining crimson. “So yes, changes the texture immensely,” she added and then looked away.

 

“Does the spray solvent work for this as well?” Severus asked, picking up the spray bottle and kerchief, handing them to Hermione.

 

“It should,” George said not looking up from his frantic scribbling.

 

Hermione carefully applied three spritzes of the solvent to her pubic hair and after a few passes with the cloth her hair was once again the normal dark brown coarse curls they had been before he’d applied the first tube. “It’s empty,” said Severus as he snapped the tube from the brush. “So these are one use then,” he added and George nodded, continuing to flash his quill between the inkpot and the parchment in the ledger.

 

Severus plucked the next little plastic vial up from the box and snapped it into place. It appeared to be a swirl of colors. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and then turned back to Hermione, this time not bothering to wait for silent permission as he began to slowly brush her curls.

 

“Ooh!” she cried again. “It tingles just a bit— like a little zap— oh!” her voice was sharp as she gazed down between her legs, Severus having finished the application. She slapped her hand over her eyes and dragged it slowly down over her nose until her palm covered her mouth. “It’s a bloody rainbow,” she murmured into her hand, the sound muffled against her fingers.

 

“Indeed,” said Severus staring casually at the arch shape that had been carved into her pubic hair. It still covered a large amount of her mound, but there was a clear bare distinction around the edges of the shape as if someone had taken the time to intricately shave the shape into her thatch of hair. The hair itself was streaked in the colors of a banded rainbow. “Smooth,” he said gently pressing his finger to the bare patch under the arch.

 

“The hair?” George asked looking up.

 

“No, it, you should see for yourself, Mr. Weasley,” he said.

 

Hermione blushed but could not stop gaping at her own mound, the detailed shape standing perfect as if someone had stenciled it into place. The colors were vibrant to say the least. “Genius,” George said and slowly reached his hand forward, touching the same spot that Severus had touched. “We’ll be able to mark this up…one use or not, a product that gets her that smooth without shaving or stenciling…Merlin, my brother was an actual genius,” he beamed and then scurried quickly back to the ledger. 

 

Severus slowly ran his fingers over the rainbow of her pubic hair and Hermione shivered, unable to help herself, this touch feeling somehow more intimate now that she was more exposed. “Softens the hair, but not to the extent that the first one did,” he said simply and then again handed her the kerchief and spray bottle.

 

The third vial was blood red with glints of silvery glitter sparkling inside. Snapping it into place he’d barely waited for her to place the kerchief down before he began to stroke the brush through the rainbow colored curls. “Um…more tingling,” she said, her voice slightly breathy. She cleared her throat harshly. “But otherwise fine.”

 

Severus pulled his hand back and placed the brush on the table once more. In the place where the large arching rainbow had been there was now a much smaller vibrant red heart. Again it was intricately carved and nearly one half of her pubic hair had been removed as if by a smooth waxing process. “I think that if these were used in reverse order the heart would be larger,” he said with a shrug and then idly ran his fingers through the heart. “It does sparkle which is a bit odd, but it could be good for Valentine’s Day or some other romantic occasion, anniversary wedding night, what have you.”

 

“Right,” he said. “Still soft?” George asked.

 

“Yes, though again, not as soft as the first one, but about the same as the rainbow,” he said and then repeated the process of undoing the now empty vial, handing her the kerchief and bottle and then snapping the last vial into place. He frowned. “This one looks like water,” he said.

 

George began paging through the green book. “There’s no note about the fourth bottle,” he said. “Give it a try anyhow,” he suggested much to Hermione’s chagrin.

 

With a slight shrug of his shoulders Severus began to brush through the heart, watching in awe as swipe after swipe seemed to denude her entirely of any remaining vestige of her pubic curls. “It’s tingling!” she said urgently. “A good deal more than the first— ooh!” she cried, gazing down at her naked mound. Both hands came to quickly cover her now denuded sex and her face was as red as George’s hair.

 

Severus kept his face neutral but this did not stop the round of guffaws that echoed from George. “Sorry,” he said grinning ear to ear as he walked over to her. “Come on, let us see…if a little tingling is all you felt and it’s wax-smooth I’m going to be rich,” he said and then gently tapped her hand. “Come on,” he said.

 

Narrowing her gaze at him she slowly pulled her hands away from her crotch, revealing her completely naked and smooth sex to both their eyes. George was first, placing his hand gently over her mound, trailing his fingers across it before pulling his hand back. He nodded to Severus, who repeated the gesture, but instead of pulling his hand back as he approached the curve of her lips, he slowly dragged his hand down, his palm cupping her labia. Hermione whimpered slightly, though his hand remained and after a moment he pulled back.

 

Pleading eyes gazed at him and she was certain her whole body was blood red, but all he did was nod to George. “Completely smooth,” he said. There was no way he hadn’t felt the slick moisture that was all but dripping from her netherlips but he thankfully chose to say nothing, sparing her what little dignity she had left.

 

“Right,” said George and then he hastily lifted the lid from the box intended for males. “Only two in this one, how boring,” he said nodding to the brush which was identical to the one Severus had just used on Hermione. George looked up at the time piece on the wall. “I think we can test this and then maybe just one more before calling it a night?” he said looking to his two test subjects.

 

They both nodded silently. Hermione slid down from the table and quickly pulled her knickers up, not bothering with her jeans for the moment. She watched in awe as Severus carefully undid his trousers, and slid them down to his ankles, his boots preventing him from taking them all the way off. He wore a pair of black cotton boxer shorts and while she supposed this surprised her she said nothing. Of course she hadn’t given much thought to what Severus Snape wore in regards to undergarments. But before she could think on it further, said undergarment had joined his trousers and he had hopped up into the edge of the table, spreading his thighs wide, his flaccid member hanging on one side.

 

She bit her lip as she slowly picked up the brush, avoiding looking at him. The last thing she wanted was for him to pop a hard-on, at least she’d been able to mostly hide her unintentional arousal, but his would be far more obvious. It made her swallow nervously when she snapped the first vial in place, a bright golden glittery liquid now atop the brush. Her eyes were unable to avoid his cock, limp as it was, but her breath hitched in her throat just the same.

 

There was something forbidden about seeing him this way; his pants down around his ankles, his thick ebony pubic curls surrounding the base of his shaft, trailing up toward his naval and thinning into a line as they did. She was biting into her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He was thick; even flaccid she could tell he was thicker around than what Ron had been. Thicker around than Harry as well; and slightly long, though she knew there was no judging size in a flaccid man’s cock.

 

She placed the brush at the top of the thick mound of curls and slowly brushed downward, careful to maneuver around his cock as she did, until she’d managed to stroke through it entirely.

 

“Tingling,” he muttered and then waited for her appraisal.

 

Her combing had transformed him entirely. The thick black thatch of wiry curls were shaped, an intricate zigzag pattern that flowed in a bright golden hue diagonally down toward his cock, widening into an arrow tip at the sides. And like the arch of the rainbow and the shape of the heart had on her body, the remaining hair that was not part of the golden lightning bolt had been stripped smooth. “Wow,” she muttered. “You are going to make a fortune with this one,” she said, blushing a bit, trying not to linger too long on his crotch, her eyes daring only a fraction of a glance at his balls in the process.

 

“Is it soft, Hermione?” George asked.

 

She swallowed hard. Closing her eyes with trembling fingers she reached forward and gently brushed the pads of her fingers through the lightning bolt design. The back of her knuckles lightly grazed his cock and she felt him twitch slightly. That was enough for her to pull her hand back. “Y-yes,” her voice held the slightest of tremors. The golden curls were more than soft they were nearly like silk. “D-different from how you normally feel?” she asked, gazing up at him, his glittering black eyes boring into her eyes.

 

“Yes,” he said, not having even touched the new design. Severus picked up the spray bottle and within moments the golden coloring had fled his pubic hair leaving it once again the wiry jet black. He nodded to her and Hermione hesitantly touched her fingers to the top of his pubic mound, the coarse texture of his curls even harsher than hers had been before she’d been stripped.

 

She pulled her hand back quickly and began to fumble with the box. “There’s no clear vial, only this green one,” she said and then snapped the vial into the brush. As she worked it through the lightning bolt design she watched, again in awe, as his curls fell away from his body, vanishing into thin air before they ever hit the floor. “Oh wow,” she said blushing once more. “It’s erm…well…” Like the heart had been much smaller over her mound this design was a fraction of the size of the lightning bolt, and a bright green.

 

“Shamrock,” he muttered. “For luck I suppose,” he said, touching the shamrock that had been carved into his pubic hair. “Indeed it does feel softer, though,” he said and then nodded to Hermione who touched the tiny four-leafed design of green curls just above the base of his shaft.

 

“It does,” she whispered, letting her hand linger there for a moment longer than was reasonable for a test. Yanking her hand back she stood from the stool, giving him plenty of room to stand and adjust his clothes. She kept her back to him so whether or not he’d cleaned the green from what remained of his pubic hair she didn’t know.

 

“This is actually bloody brilliant,” George said with a grin. “Now, just one more, I think, Hermione this one is for you,” he said and nodded to the table. “If you’ll hop up and take your knickers off,” he said.

 

Slowly Hermione pulled her knickers down, stepping out of them again and she hopped up on the table, keeping her thighs pressed together until he told her otherwise. She noted that he had dressed his trousers once again firmly in place as if the odd little experimentation hadn’t happened. “Right,” she said turning back to George. “One more then?”

 

George was grinning from ear to ear as he rummaged in the trunk. “This was one of my suggestions I just never thought he could actually do it,” he said pulling out a small box that looked like an oversized ring case. Upon popping it open it revealed a plump pair of lips. “Lip-n-Tongue Liberator,” he said his grin widening until it was nearly off his face.

 

Hermione gazed at it wide-eyed. “Does it— oh, lord,” she said.

 

“You bet,” he smirked. “But the point of testing it is to see how it compares to the real McCoy,” he said. Plucking the lips from the box he flipped them over in his hand, showing her the little switch and hand hold. “It has a mind of its own, says the notes, but essentially it should mimic a very skilled set of lips and one very talented tongue,” he said.

 

Hermione turned her head away, blushing furiously, gazing down at the marble table upon which she sat. “I— I can’t,” she muttered.

 

George frowned. “Why not?” he asked. “I mean, you don’t have to do it to— you know, finish or anything, just enough to see if it feels like the real thing,” he said. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

 

“If I may,” Severus said stepping over toward George. “I don’t believe Miss Granger is afraid, her embarrassment is flowing from her woeful lack of experience,” he said. But this only left George staring dumbfounded at his former professor. Severus rolled his eyes. “Miss Granger has never had the pleasures of having a lover lick between her lips,” he said flatly.

 

“Merlin!” George cried. This only seemed to make Hermione blush harder. She crossed her legs tightly over one another and refused to look at George. “Is this true, Hermione? All those years with Ron and he never—”

 

“No, George, he didn’t,” she spat bitterly. “So I’m afraid I won’t be much good in telling you whether or not it feels like the real deal,” she said.

 

“Oh,” George frowned. “Erm, right,” he said with a shrug. “I guess that’s enough for tonight anyhow,” he said. “Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs, we’ll get you both paid and I’ll see you tomorrow night?” he said. With another quick note in the ledger he nodded and then vanished out to the staircase.

 

Hermione sighed, shuddering slightly. Hopping down from the table she dressed quickly, not bothering to re-hook her bra, stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. Severus, who was already dressed, remained silent and said nothing, following her down the stairs. They were both greeted by George at the door near the main entrance to the shop. “Right, 30 galleons each,” he said, handing them each a small purple satchel laden heavy with coins. “And I’ll see you both tomorrow evening when shop closes? Around six?” he said.

 

Severus nodded and Hermione nodded as well. “Yes, that sound fine,” she said, trying not to notice how disappointed he looked. “Around six,” she repeated and then backed out into the street of Diagon Alley, disapparating before anything could be said to her otherwise.


	2. Testing Limitations

Hermione had paced for nearly a half hour at the far end of the street. There was a good possibility that he didn’t even live there anymore. But she didn’t know where else to go. Mustering up the Gryffindor courage that was supposedly repressed within the depths of her insides she marched against the evening’s wind up to the end of Spinner’s End and stood out in front of the door to the house for another twenty minutes before she finally forced herself to knock.

 

When he pulled back the door to the otherwise empty night he was surprised to see Hermione Granger standing on his front stoop. “Miss Granger,” he said his brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice accusatory but not harsh and unkind as she had expected.

 

“Could I come in?” she asked, her voice nearly lost to the evening wind.

 

For a moment he thought to simply shake his head no and shut the door in the girl’s face, but after careful consideration he nodded and stepped aside so that she could enter, closing the door behind her. “To what do I owe your presence?” he asked, sweeping past her brusquely as he moved to stoke the small fire in his fireplace.

 

She wasn’t surprised by his curt nature nor his nearly empty sitting room if that’s what one called an empty room with a chair facing the fireplace and a threadbare rug thrown in front of it. The walls were lined with bookshelves though all the shelves were empty save for the thick layers of dust and cobwebs that coated them. Her steps were slow, echoing slightly against the floorboards as she crossed over to where he stood. “I have a question to ask you, sir,” she said, her voice a bare whisper.

 

Without acknowledging her he swept from the room over into a portion of the house unseen. Hermione frowned, standing there for a moment uncertain as to whether or not she should follow him. She hadn’t even had the chance to ask him what she’d come to ask him and already he was ignoring her, though she supposed she should have considered herself lucky to get past the front door. Just as she thought that it might be best to leave he appeared once more, this time lingering near the archway that led off to the rest of the house. She gazed at him for a curious but worried look upon her face.

 

“It has been my experience, Miss Granger, that whenever someone starts the conversation off by stating that they have a question to ask rather than simply asking the question that it is indeed a complicated thing that will require explaining and take a good deal more time than simply posing it aloud,” he paused for a moment and then nodded to the archway. “I’ve put the kettle on, as Merlin knows you were never short for words in your days as my pupil,” again he paused, watching the look of embarrassed indignation register on her face. “And there are two chairs in the kitchen.”

 

His kitchen was small, counters all around trimming the edges, broken up by major appliances; the icebox, the sink, the stove. In the center was a tiny square table with two chairs on either side, one facing the wall lined with counters the other facing the stove. He seated himself with his back to the stove and then nodded, waiting for her to do the same. Hermione pulled her chair out and sat down, not sure how or where to begin. The kettle began to whistle and he rose from his chair to pour two cups of tea before she finally began.

 

“I have a dreadful feeling that George is going to give me the sack tomorrow.”

 

Severus, who had taken his seat once again, stared at her for a long moment, letting the steam rise up off his tea before taking a small sip. “That is not a question, Miss Granger.”

 

“What?” she asked and then shook her head as if to clarify. “Yes, I know that, but my question comes from that, essentially.”

 

He nodded his head but once, waiting to see if she would continue. He noted the way she squirmed ever so slightly under his gaze. She had managed to maintain such a level of calm earlier in the evening when he had seen her at her most exposed, but now seated at his kitchen table fully clothed she was nervous. When she did not immediately start speaking once again he raised a thin eyebrow high upon his forehead. “Must be some question indeed if it has you this silent, Miss Granger.”

 

Her cheeks filled with a crimson tint before she could stop them and she forced herself to gaze down into her untouched teacup, trying to settle the nerves that were twisting her stomach in knots. “I can’t afford to have him sack me, sir,” she said softly, a confession she seemed hesitant to make. “But I’m afraid he’ll have little use for a witch that has no experience.”

 

Severus scoffed. “Given the length of time the ad continued to run in The Prophet I sincerely doubt that Mr. Weasley is in a position to sack anyone given his eagerness to get the product line to a sellable state.” His words seemed to make her even more nervous than before and he found this to be quite curious. “That being said, I’m not entirely sure what you intend for me to do about your woeful state of inexperience, Miss Granger.”

 

It was something about the way he said her name, the way it slithered over his lips, his voice like a serpent hissing against her ear. Hermione drew the teacup to her lips and swallowed, letting the hot liquid run down her throat, trying to focus on it and not his voice. “I want to be able to go in tomorrow and tell him I can test that— that whatever it was, that toy,” she said without looking at him.

 

“Then do so,” he said simply and picked up his teacup, never taking his eyes off her, tough she had yet to meet his gaze.

 

“I can’t lie to him, not after what I told him today— he’ll know I haven’t…” her voice died as she blushed once more.

 

“Then I suggest you find someone to do so, Miss Granger.” His voice was smooth as he set his empty cup down upon the table.

 

There was a long silence that followed, finally broken as she sat her cup down on the table and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. For a moment his gaze was completely unreadable, her eyes gently pleading at him. He scoffed, tilting his head up slightly as his lips curled into a faint smirk. “Surely a prostitute in Knockturne Alley would be more suited to such endeavors,” he said.

 

This caused her to turn a furious shade of red as she looked away. “I can’t afford a prostitute,” she whispered and then quickly added. “And I wouldn’t anyhow…it’s not…it’s just not— I wouldn’t.” she said.

 

He kept his gaze on her, studying the way she sat leaning slightly forward letting her bushy curls frame her face. The face that he had covertly watched from the corner of his eye all evening, the way she blushed, the way she trembled, not unlike the way she was doing so now. After another moment of silently watching her, waiting for her to speak, he pursed his lips. “And so the natural choice was to come here?” he asked, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

 

This caused her eyes to snap up and meet his. While her face was still tinted pink with embarrassment she seemed to have found her voice. “You’ve already— I mean you— oh goodness,” she muttered and then drew in a deep breath, exhaling gently. “You’ve seen me naked a good deal more than I would care for you to have already today, sir, and given the situation…yes, logically this seemed like the right place to come.”

 

“I see,” he said and then with a wave of his hand summoned the kettle over and refilled his cup. Severus was quiet as he sipped his second cuppa, contemplating, staring at her, just watching as she glanced nervously from her own empty cup to him and then to the table top. “I must admit I am intrigued as to why you need this job so desperately,” he ventured after several moments. “I don’t personally care one way or the other, but a witch at your age with the mind you had should it still be as it was when you were showing yourself off as a know-it-all extraordinaire during your days at Hogwarts should have no trouble procuring employment.”

 

“Things have changed,” she said softly.

 

“So much so that you were unable to keep your position at the ministry?”

 

Hermione felt her face flush though this time it was not in embarrassment but in frustration. “I was let go from my co-council position at the ministry after too many unpopular outcomes of the clients whose cases I observed being defended,” she said tersely. His own exoneration trial had been the spark that set the downward rolling snowball in motion.

 

Severus nodded, “Blacklisted then?” he asked.

 

“So it would seem,” she muttered.

 

He set the kettle down on the table and carefully pushed it across to her. Hermione’s hand curled around the handle of the kettle and poured herself a second cup before heaving a great sigh. “That was my question, you know,” she said after a moment, allowing herself a sip of tea before gazing at him.

 

“What was?” Severus kept his eyes on hers, a steady glance that allowed him to read her better.

 

“Why you had taken the job…” she shrugged a bit and then looked away.

 

The slight sound of the chair shifting against the kitchen floor echoed through the room as he sat up and placed his hands flat on the table. “As you are finding, it is not easy maintaining work with such a…reputation. Exonerated, yes, but it’s only a word on a piece of paper,” he said simply.

 

“Minerva couldn’t—”

 

“Could not override the decision made by the Board of Governors controlled at the ministry? No. She could not. It turns out many parents, regardless of the trial proceedings, do not wish an Ex-Death Eater to be in charge of the education and functional safety of their children,” he spoke as if he were presenting a lecture to a personal class of one.

 

“Your mastery license?” she asked, pulling the lower petal of her lip between her teeth and biting it.

 

“Expired. And if I’ve taken a position as a test subject for sex toys I’m sure you can fathom that it is not in the budget to bring it up to date,” he said, the first hint of bitterness in his voice since she’d entered.

 

This made Hermione frown. “How are you managing this house?” she asked.

 

Severus snorted. “Not that it is any business of yours, but as you did come here to ask a question, Miss Granger, the house was paid for long ago…and the confundus charm that has kept the utilities paid on the property for some fifty years certainly isn’t going to up and fail now,” he added before she could ask about water and electricity. He was about to make a statement when he switched directions and posed her a question. “And where are you living, Miss Granger?”

 

Hermione looked away from him, taking a long swallow of her tea. “About,” she said.

 

“About?” he asked.

 

She sighed. “I was staying with Ron until that all fell apart…I lost my flat three months ago…between Harry’s couch and Percy’s couch…occasionally I’ll pop in at the Burrow, Merlin knows Molly would put me up but I can’t expect that of her,” she said sounding a bit bitter herself.

 

“Indeed,” he said and then reached across the table and pulled the kettle back toward him, pouring himself another cup. “It would appear, Miss Granger, that we are both in the same proverbial boat,” he said and then set the kettle down.

 

“So it would,” she said with another sigh.

 

Severus finished his tea in a deep swallow and then stood from the kitchen table. He put the kettle back on the stovetop and then placed his cup in the sink. Walking over to the counters that rested beneath the window he nodded to her. “Come here,” he said.

 

Hermione was hesitant as she finished her tea and then stood from the chair. She walked across the small kitchen to where he stood, gazing up at him uncertainly. She wasn’t terribly short for a woman her age, but he was a good two heads taller than her, his lithe figure towering over her even in just his white shirtsleeves. Firm hands gripped her around the waist and she was hoisted up onto the counter, shrieking in surprise as he settled her bottom on the edge. “What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“You don’t want to lose your job and I’ve already waited a month for him to find one girl, my empty pockets shall not last another month while he finds your replacement,” he said his voice lower, slightly gruffer than when he had addressed their job predicament moments ago.

 

“Oh,” she said. “Oh!” she cried as realization struck her. “You’re going to— here on the counter?” she asked incredulously, eyes wide.

 

Severus put one hand firmly on her shoulder and leaned her torso back against the window. “Here is as good a place as any,” he said and then brought one hand down to start undoing the button on her jeans. He held her gaze for a moment, fingers working deftly at unzipping her jeans, before he stilled his hand against her crotch, moving his body so that he stood flush between her legs.

 

There was a breath of pause and then his lips were pressed against hers, a firm almost crushing kiss, his lips pushing hers apart as he snaked his tongue into her mouth. She whimpered, the sound catching in his mouth as he kissed her, sliding his tongue over hers before pulling back, gazing hard into her eyes.

 

Hermione was panting slightly. “What was that for?” she asked, already her body was responding to him, the flush of her cheeks only the first sign of her arousal.

 

“Preventative measures as I half expect you to say you’ve never been kissed before either,” he said with a slight sneer and then he stepped back, calling the kitchen chair to him silently with his hand. He sat on the chair much as he had earlier in the workshop on the stool, just between her legs, though she still wore her jeans. His hands were firm but gentle as he pulled her simple shoes from her feet, letting them drop with a thud to the tile of his kitchen floor. He kept her socks on but wasted no time in moving his hands up to the top of her jeans. “Brace yourself on the counter and lift your hips so I can take these off,” he said, commanding her as if giving instructions in his classroom.

 

She was overwhelmed and her body shuddered slightly as she felt his hands on either side of her waist. But never one to disobey a teacher she gripped the edge of the counter and lifted her butt, allowing him to easily peel down the fabric of her jeans. They too landed in a discarded heap on the floor. There was a simple nod from him and she trembled once more, the piercing gaze of his eyes sending a rush of heat to her core. “Grip the counter ledge…this may be intense,” he said, as if warning her.

 

Her heart had already tripled its rate, pounding heavily in her chest, which was heaving up and down as she watched him lower his head. He hadn’t removed her knickers and she was about to question this when she felt her hips buck forward slightly, a moan escaping her lips. He had pressed his lips just at her center, teasing his tongue over the damp fabric of her panties. Tendrils of pleasure began to unfurl in the pit of her stomach and her thighs began to tingle.

 

The soft black strands of his hair were brushed back behind his ears, but tickled the sensitive insides of her legs as he slowly began to mouth kisses against the now soaked cotton of her knickers; his eyes glancing up from time to time to gauge her reaction. Already he could see a slight trickle of sweat forming just on her brow, her breasts, though restrained within her shirt, heaving heavily up and down as he simply teased her through the fabric.

 

“You’ll want to lean back,” he whispered, purposefully keeping his lips pressed against the crotch of her panties, watching as she trembled, the vibrations of his voice affecting her quite nicely. He hardly had a moment to wait before she was leaning back against the window, her body scooted slightly further forward, legs dangling on either side of him over the counter’s edge. He noted that both of her hands gripped the counter ledge tightly, already her knuckles were white. Severus slowly pulled his tongue back from the cloth of her knickers, pausing a moment as he exhaled against her, shifting his head slightly to her inner thigh.

 

The response he elicited from her was delicious. The soft moan, the tremble in her thighs, the way her hips jerked forward again; all from placing his lips at the slight bit of exposed flesh where her leg met her torso. That sensitive juncture of skin became the soul focus of his attention as he began to lave his tongue in slow wide strokes up and down, brushing the edge of her panties; his cheek leaning against her cloth covered sex. He could feel her trembling; the way her breath hitched every time he pulled his tongue away and paused, deep even steady puffs of breath exhaling on her wet skin.

 

He slowly drew his fingers up to the elastic, pausing as she whimpered at his touch. “Quite responsive,” he said as he curled the tips of his fingers into the band of her panties, slowly tugging them away from her sex. Hermione needed no coaxing to lift her bottom so that he could pull them all the way off. Her sex was dripping; slick and heated from his teasing and already she could feel her core throbbing with need.

 

Shifting slightly forward on the chair he brought both hands to press at the insides of her thighs, pushing them further apart to spread her beautiful sex out fully before his eyes. While the products they had tested earlier had been responsible for her freshly smoothed sex, he had not properly allowed himself to look at her beyond what was reasonable. Now his eyes were drinking in every inch of her; the way her pink lips were swollen and parted slightly, the slickness of her arousal glittering in the dull light of his kitchen.

 

Hermione trembled as he lowered his head, letting his lips hover just over her entrance for a moment before she screamed, unable to help herself as he drew his tongue in a slow sweeping stroke up from just below her entrance to the top of her mound and down again, pausing at the hood that covered her sensitive bud. His tongue slithered out between his lips and began to nudge at the tiny stiffened peak, coaxing it forward from beneath the fleshy hood. Each flick of the tip of his tongue against her clitoris elicited a sharp intake of breath or piercingly clipped shriek of her voice.

 

Severus pressed his lips together, gently suckling them around her clit, feeling her hips jerk forward before he trailed open mouthed kisses down over her lips, pulling them, nipping them softly with his lips, his tongue swirling over her entrance. She tasted sweet; heady and musky with a hint of natural sweetness to her, not unpleasant in the least. And she was beyond wet; wetter still than he had felt her that afternoon when he’d pressed his hand to her sex to determine how smooth she had felt after being inadvertently sheered of her pubic hair.

 

Her eyelids were fluttering as she felt each sensation as if it were magnified a thousand times against her sex. The way his tongue stroked her; warm like a velvety snake with its own mind, slithering over her most intimate parts, circling around her sensitive clitoris; making her writhe and wriggle at his ministrations. She could feel each hot sticky breath as he exhaled, making her body tingle all the more, every nerve in her spine jolting up on edge as she arched her back, her head pressing hard against the windowpane, certain that she might shatter it. A tense heat was building in her core and she could feel herself tittering on that edge.

 

Never before had she felt herself so close to an orgasm so quickly; not at her own hand and certainly not from the ridiculous fumbling that Ronald Weasley had called sex. All it had taken was a few good laps of Severus Snape’s tongue; she shuddered as her mind began to slip away once more, too entangled in his pleasurable ministrations between her legs; that sharp serpent’s tongue giving her such pleasure that she moaned.

 

“Hmm,” he mumbled against her quivering vaginal lips, hearing her moan. “Very sensitive,” he whispered more to himself than to her and gently brought his lips around her clit once more, sucking hard as he flicked the tip of his tongue against the stiff bud, daring to drag his teeth across it once more. It earned him a second more throaty moan and his lips curled into a slight smirk. Slowly he pulled his head back, gazing up at her.

 

It took Hermione several seconds, with her hips still idly jerking forward, to realize that he’d stopped his delicious licking of her sex. Her eyes flew open, her chest still heaving, breath still coming in short bursts as she looked at him with panic searing across her face. “Why did you stop?” she whimpered, barely coherent.

 

His eyes glittered with a bright smugness that radiated across his face as he slowly sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve done what you asked of me, Miss Granger,” he said very coolly, watching her cheeks flush as he spoke. “Allowed you to feel the pleasures of another’s tongue and lips between your legs,” he said simply. “Was it not adequate?” he mocked, “Do you not believe you shall be able to test Weasley’s toy tomorrow given the experience you’ve just received?”

 

She was burning with embarrassment, and even hotter with nearly-there arousal. But her stomach flipped in knots at the thought of begging or pleading with him to not leave her in her current state. She couldn’t draw her thighs together properly without awkwardly moving her feet up over his knees, for although he’d sat back in the chair he was still quite close to her. Hermione was stuck with her legs splayed open, dripping and swollen, her sex desperate to once again feel his coaxing tongue that had brought her so close to the edge and this burning desire caused her to flush even more.

 

Severus continued to stare at her; his eyes not deviating from her own wide brown ones, his arms still crossed firmly over his chest. After another moment of her flabbergasted silence he stood from the chair and placed both hands on the top of her thighs. “I shall leave you to dress then,” he said, pulling his hands back as quickly as he’d placed them there and without another word he swept from the small kitchen into a part of the house unseen.

 

Hermione was trembling as she slid down from the counter; half tempted to thrust her fingers between her legs and finish herself she was that close. But thinking better of it, as the last thing she needed was for him to taunt her over discovering her masturbating in his kitchen, she quickly picked up her knickers and slid them on, jumping into her jeans just as fast, and toeing on her shoes before he could return to mock her.

 

Her legs were sticky and she longed for stimulation between them, the burning in her belly not having entirely abated. She ran both hands through her hair, wincing at how stiff her knuckles had become from so fiercely gripping the ledge of his counter. Hermione sighed; she knew that it had been foolish to seek him out for such a thing, but at least come the morrow she would be able to tell George Weasley that she could test his Lip-n-Tongue Liberator.

 

She was about to walk from his kitchen when he reappeared in the entryway nodding at her now dressed figure. She said nothing, not knowing if there really was anything to say. She couldn’t very well chastise him for not finishing her off, she supposed she should have been lucky that he had been willing to do what he had done for her, though she supposed such a thing warranted a thank you. She just wasn’t sure how one thanked someone for services rendered that were mostly incomplete. So Hermione said nothing and simply nodded her head at him in return.

 

Severus stepped back, her cue to follow, and she did, moving through the tiny sitting room to the door. The wind was no less fierce than when she had arrived. Standing in his doorway looking out onto the darkened street she sighed. Hermione turned over her shoulder to look at him. He was gazing at her curiously and then raised an eyebrow up on his forehead as he caught her gaze. “Yes?” he asked, knowing all too well the look in her eyes. It meant that she had questions.

 

“What about…” she trailed off. Could she really bring herself to say it? Thinking for a moment she decided that asking her next question was far less humiliating than what she’d just experienced. “A blow job?” she whispered, her voice almost whisked away on the night wind.

 

Severus scoffed, the sound more of a derisive snort than anything else. “Despite your woeful inexperience, Miss Granger, over the years I have had my share and do not find myself lacking,” he said simply, though he did nothing to hide the slight smirk that crossed his lips.

 

His answer brought another crimson stain to her cheeks as she quickly shook her head. “I mean what if he wants us to test something that involves…well…that,” she said hastily.

 

“What of it?” he asked, and then seeing her look away he rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you are pathetic,” he muttered and then crossed his arms over his chest. “Let us worry about that when and if it is presented to us,” he said taking a step back in to his house. He did not wait for her to protest or insist that she receive a second lesson before he nodded to her once more. “Goodnight, Miss Granger,” he said and then promptly closed the door, leaving her alone on his stoop.

 

 

~*~

 

Her day had been a busy one. She’d forced it to be. Anything to take her mind off of what she’d done the night before. Not just testing products for George Weasley’s shop; that she had come to accept, but seeking out Severus Snape for experience, that had made her skin crawl all through the night. And only partly due to her embarrassment, more so because he’d left her lingering on the edge of pleasure. She had crashed at Ginny and Harry’s that night and was not about to attempt fingering herself in their guest room, which had only caused her further frustration.

 

She’d visited The Burrow for lunch, popped in on Bill and Fleur in the early afternoon and spent the remainder of the day in a muggle coffee shop not too far from Diagon Alley. When five thirty rolled around she was on her way through the back room of The Leaky Cauldron and slipped into Diagon Alley seeing some of the last of the day’s stragglers milling about heading to The Cauldron and a few of the other pubs; many winding their way toward Knockturne Alley.

 

Hermione made her way to the joke shop just as George was flipping the sign. “Ah, you’re here,” he said holding the door open for her. “I wanted to have a word with you before we started tonight—”

 

“I can test it.” She blurted out.

 

“What?” George asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

“I can test it. The Lip-n-Tongue toy, I don’t want you to give me the sack— I can test it now,” she said.

 

George stared at her for a moment and then burst into a deep guffaw. “Right!” he said and then wrapped his arm around her shoulder like a big brother would as he locked the front door to the shop and guided her through to the staircase. “I mean— I hadn’t planned on giving you the sack today,” he teased. “But I was going to suggest perhaps seeing a friend of mine about solving your erm…well, no matter, you’ve taken care of it, which is great— erm, for business,” he said and then shook his head. “Snape’s already up there, I’ll be up in a moment, just need to grab the register,” he said.

 

It was a relief to hear that she was not going to be sacked, but that relief fled her when George mentioned her co-worker’s name. She knew he would be there; he was never late for anything. And she hadn’t been late, just exactly down to the second on time. Making her way halfway up the staircase to the door of the lab, she ducked in and found him standing by the table where they had worked yesterday.

 

“Hello,” she said, trying to be polite. He said nothing. But he did turn to acknowledge her, a simple nod before he turned his eyes back to the plethora of product that George had laid out on the table. “Right then,” she said and made her way over to him, standing silently waiting for George to come upstairs.

 

The redhead only kept them waiting for a few moments, before he arrived, swirling his wand over the register, setting it to count itself as he came over to the table. “Right,” he said and nodded to them both. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said and then sat down on his stool, flipping open the ledger and the green book. “Erm, let’s see,” he said, jumping right into things. “You said you can test the Lip-n-Tongue Liberator, now, yes?” he asked Hermione, eyes never leaving the book as he frantically flipped through its pages, trying to locate the notes on it.

 

“Yes,” she said quietly, blushing a bit. She refused to look at Severus then, for fear he might smirk at her. “Is it—”

 

“Here,” George said, standing and pulling it from the drawer he had found it in the day before. “If you’ll just hop up on the table, drop your knickers…and give it a go,” he said and then dipped his quill into the pot of ink. Hermione took the toy in her hand, it was small enough to conceal in her palm. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she tried her best not to let it show as she slowly slid out of her skirt, letting it fall around her ankles before she stepped out of it.

 

She turned to Severus. “Hold this, please,” she said and handed him the small toy as she put both hands on her knickers and carefully pulled them down. Setting them on the edge of the table, she climbed up on it, and then slid her whole body back until she was laying across the cool marble surface. “George, can I have a pillow?” she asked, her voice quaking just slightly.

 

“What?” he asked looking up at her. “Oh, right, um…Severus, would you transfigure her skirt or something I don’t think I have a pillow up here, maybe in the flat or down in the shop, but the ones in the shop probably fart or turn to rocks or some such,” he said with his lopsided grin.

 

Nodding in silence Severus bent and retrieved her skirt from the floor. Withdrawing his wand from his trousers he waved it quickly and muttered under his breath and in a moment he held a denim pillow in his hands. Sliding it across the table, he waited for Hermione to lift her head before placing it beneath her neck. He stepped back from the table and watched as she spread her legs slightly and pulled them up so that her knees were pointed, feet flat on the marble surface.

 

“How do you turn it on, George?” she asked, leaning up slightly to look at the toy.

 

“Little switch on the back,” he said scribbling in his notebook once more.

 

“Right,” she said. Hermione’s fingers trembled as she held the toy in her palm and brought it between her legs. With a flick of her thumb against the switch she stared at it for a moment as it laid completely still in her hand. “Does it need— ooh!” she cried. The lips suddenly jolted to life, smacking against one another, a long wet tongue licking them before the slid out of her hand and began to hover just over her sex. “Ooh goodness,” she whimpered, watching them as they hovered of their own accord.

 

Before she could make a comment of any kind the lips had pressed against her inner thigh and began to trail kisses against her flesh. She whimpered; they felt, for all intents and purposes like real lips, with an actual tongue moving against her skin. She closed her eyes and for a moment she was certain that it was Severus between her legs once more. Her hips bucked as the lips closed over her labia, suckling them and mouthing closed against her inner lips, as if to kiss her entrance. Her breasts were heaving through her shirt as she arched her hips against the lips again, this time feeling the tongue sliding against her clit. “Oooh gods,” she whimpered softly.

 

Hermione could feel that familiar burning filling her loins; that eager sensation that was bringing her closer and closer to the edge as the magical enchanted lips worked their magic. They were bringing her closer and closer to completion, but for as delicious as it felt, something was missing. “S-something’s…oooh,” she moaned, rolling her hips as the lips closed around her clit. And then she shrieked, “Ooaah!”

 

The tongue had slipped its hot velvety length into her slit, probing her insides with rapid strokes. He certainly didn’t do that! Her mind was reeling as she felt this new sensation, the lips working frantically around her labia, the tongue pulling out, once again circling, swirling and flicking at her clit. She could feel her walls tightening, her toes beginning to curl; but still there was something missing.

 

“Something what, Hermione?” George asked, turning his head up every now and again to watch her as she used the toy to bring herself closer and closer. “Not strong enough? Isn’t it working?” he asked with a frown.

 

“N-no it’s not…aahh,” she moaned, again her hips rolling to meet the wild flickers of the fake tongue. “It’s just— m-missing…aauh!” she cried, feeling a little spasm shoot through her. Seeming to sense her impending climax the toy clamped its lips around her clit and began to suck while licking the swollen bud mercilessly. Hermione trembled, her body quaking hard as she came; toes curling up tightly, her chest heaving hard.

 

After a moment her orgasm had passed, but the lips continued to suck and lick, to the point of being so pleasurable it was painful. Gripping the back of the toy she wrenched them free of her body and immediately forced her legs closed, still panting. “Turnit…off…” she panted, tossing the toy at Severus.

 

His reflexes were quick as he caught the still moving toy, that continued to lick and slurp at the air and his fingers as he flipped the switch, causing the toy to fall lifelessly into his palm. He placed it on the marble table beside her, and then gently lifted her head with his hand, pulling the pillow out from beneath her before letting it fall back into being her skirt. Severus draped the material over her sex, covering her somewhat, and she nodded, taking another full moment to gain her breath before speaking.

 

“It’s missing something,” she said.

 

Both George and Severus looked at her curiously. “What? What’s it missing?” George asked incredulously. “From the way you were moaning it sounds like it works just fine,” he said with a bit of a grin.

 

Hermione blushed as she sat up, thankful that she had not gotten completely naked to test the toy. “It works fine,” she said and then shifted slightly, her thighs now sticky from her orgasm. “But you said to compare it to the real thing…and yes, it feels like a very talented pair of lips and tongue…but something is missing, I can’t put my finger on it,” she shook her head and then slowly slid down from the table. Picking up a cloth from the edge of the table she muttered a cleansing spell and then wiped herself off before sliding her knickers back on. There was no sense in putting her skirt back on as it was only likely to come off again.

 

“Huh,” George said, his attention turned once more to the ledger where his quill was flying furiously across the parchment.

 

“If I figure out what it’s missing, I’ll let you know, George, I just can’t for the life of me figure out what,” she said and then turned to face Severus, silently questioning him.

 

He shrugged his shoulders. Whatever it was missing he had no idea, but as she sighed, a smirk curled across his lips. He took three steps toward her, closing the distance between them. “You’ve a string of something in your hair,” he said. Severus leaned over her shoulder, brushing his hand through her hair, and as he did, he leaned his lips against her ear and slowly, purposefully exhaled.

 

Hermione shivered. “Ooh,” she felt the shiver travel down her spine and straight to her core, making her legs tremble. She quickly scrambled back from him, watching the smirk on his face quickly dissolve into his stoic mask of neutrality. “It’s breath,” she whispered, her own voice a breathy gasp. “It’s missing breathing, George…it feels like a real tongue with lips except…when someone’s…down there…you can feel their hot…soft…breath,” she said and then shook her head, trying not to sound like a wanton tart.

 

“Oh,” said George and then he stood from the stool and picked up the toy. “Well that’s going to be a challenge,” he said, and sprayed the toy with a bottle of cleaner before tossing it back into the drawer. “Brilliant, Hermione, I knew with your mind you’d know how to perfect it,” he said and then nodded to the table. “I’ve got a few more products geared toward mutual stimulation today,” he said and then broke out into a grin. “But first— I was up all night working on these,” he said and raced halfway across the workshop returning a moment later with four white boxes.

 

“What are those?” she asked.

 

“Open them up,” he grinned, setting them down on the table in front of her.

 

Hermione popped the first white box open and pulled out a pot of bright green cream. “You’ve got them marketed!” she grinned, turning the pot of Emerald Isle Nipple Cream over in her hands. “No flavor?” she asked, spinning it around to read the label on the back.

 

“Not in that one, Severus was right, it was practically perfect the way it was,” he said. “But I’d like you two to test the finished product just the same, if it passes inspection it will be the first novelty ready for sale in the Wanton Wizard Wheezes line,” he smirked.

 

“That’s what you’re calling the line?” she giggled and then quickly unscrewed the top of the pot before handing it to Severus. “Let’s try it then,” she said all too eagerly. But she could hardly help being excited over the success of his new products.

 

Severus stared at her for a long moment. “Eager as you are, you’ve forgotten a few necessary steps,” he said.

 

Hermione looked at him dumbly for a moment and then her eyes widened. “Oh! Right!” she said, blushing once more. Her arms were quick as she pulled her shirt over her chest and then slid out of her bra, exposing her breasts to him. “Cross your fingers, George,” she turned her head over her shoulder to grin at the redhead, but he was already scribbling notes in the ledger.

 

Severus had stepped forward, dipping his finger into the pot. “It feels slightly more like mousse,” he noted and then began to work the vibrant emerald cream into her nipple. Just as it did before the coloring blended right in, fully coloring her nipple and areola. “Looks the same,” he said and then gently brought his hand up to cup her breast. Hermione bit her lower lip as she watched him bow his head, and gingerly suck her nipple between his lips, licking the stiffened bud just as he had before.

 

And just as he had before a moment later he pulled back, giving a satisfactory nod. “No taste, just her,” he said. “And the coloring is staying,” he said.

 

“Great!” George grinned. “Now open that second box, and put that one on her opposite nipple,” he said.

 

Severus picked up the second box and withdrew a pot of green that looked almost identical to the first pot except mixed into the green mousse were vibrant black swirls. “Emerald Isle Swirl…now with flavor,” he said and pursed his lips. “What flavor?” he asked.

 

“You tell me,” George grinned and gazed at him, eagerly awaiting to see how well his clever augmentation to the product really was.

 

Prodding his finger into the mousse, being sure to catch a bit of the shimmery black swirl, he brought the product to her right nipple and began to mix it in. The swirl of black did not bleed through the green, creating a little mini swirl that rippled across the area of her areola. “Intriguing,” he said before placing the pot down on the marble table. Slowly he lowered his head once more, gently stroking the flat of his tongue over her nipple.

 

Hermione could feel the bud taut against his tongue, the moan that threatened to leave her throat held back only as she dug her canines down hard into the petal of her lower lip. He was licking her areola now, clockwise and then counterclockwise, laving his tongue up and down over her nipple, suckling the pebbled flesh into his mouth, as if trying to suck the coloration right off of her.

 

After an agonizing moment of repressed pleasure and much to Hermione’s relief and chagrin, he finally released his lips from around her nipple, pulling back and staring at George. “An aphrodisiac?” he questioned. “Rather clever,” he said.

 

“What’s it taste like?” she asked, wanting to know what it was that had kept him so attentive at her breast.

 

“Chocolate,” they said in unison, George smiling at Severus as he did.

 

“You like it then?” he asked.

 

“It is a flavor that stimulates arousal,” Severus said, keeping his voice neutral. “Given what its being used for I would say a great many men will enjoy it, and the color is deceptive, which helps to disorient the senses, making the chocolate flavor that much stronger.”

 

“Excellent!” George cried, making note after note in his ledger. “Use the spray and then you can do one of each on her nipple of the other two, just to speed things along,” he said. “I solidified the gold so that it was less glittery and more color, and I scrapped the flavor, since you mentioned the green one did well enough without it. And I tried something entirely new in that fourth box,” he said.

 

Hermione had picked up the solvent and had wiped both nipples clean, though she could hardly deny the arousal was once again building between her thighs. She tried not to lick her lips as she watched him open the third and fourth box. He repeated the process as applying the gold to her left nipple and after a moment she looked as if she’d been touched by Midas, at least over her areola and pebbled bud.

 

“It does look rather bright,” Severus commented, only licking her nipple once to ensure that there was no flavor. “But if it’s the novelty aspect you’re after, you have it with this odd metallic color,” he shrugged and then turned his attention to the final pot. It was a bright pink; looking a bit like someone had electrocuted bubble gum. “Pink?” he frowned.

 

“Pink with flavor,” George said.

 

Two fingers gathered up the fluorescent mousse and rubbed it into her nipple. “Oh,” she said as he began to massage it into her skin. “I can smell that from here, bubble gum, George?” she asked.

 

“I hope that doesn’t mean the taste is too strong,” he muttered making a note in the ledger.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “I detest bubble gum,” he muttered and then carefully lifted her breast with his hand, cupping it more firmly than he had the first time. Her mind was driving her wild as she swore he squeezed her breast slightly before brushing his lips against her nipple. She watched as he closed his eyes. Had he closed them before? She couldn’t be certain but she was pretty positive that his eyes had previously remained open when tasting the various color crèmes on her nipple. “Exactly like bubble gum,” he muttered as he drew his tongue around her tiny stiffened peak.

 

“It’s a popular flavor,” she whispered, unconsciously arching her chest forward slightly. If he noticed he did not mention. Severus continued to suckle at her nipple for a moment, trying to determine if the flavor would fade or become less intense.

 

He pulled back, his lips making a soft ‘pop’ sound as they released her nipple. “It is strongly flavored. You need to cleverly phrase it in such a way that the public are aware that it is the most intensely strong piece of bubble gum they’ve ever tasted,” he said simply and then eyed the table, waiting for Hermione to clean herself and toss her shirt on, or at the very least, cross her arms over her chest.

 

“What’s next?” she heard herself ask, turning to face George, breasts still exposed, one golden nipple and one neon pink one standing stiff and straining against the cool workshop air.

 

“Next?” George stood from his stool and walked over to a small little bundle of plastic, carefully unwrapping it. “These,” he said and pointed to what looked like a handful of little plastic shiny stones no bigger than pebbles laying against the slightly crinkled plastic. “Tongue Tinglers,” he said. “Or Tingling Tongue Toffee, haven’t decided which name I prefer, he’s got both in his notes,” he said.

 

“What do they do?” Hermione heard herself asking a question again, wondering where her bold streak had come from.

 

“Essentially you put one in your mouth, suck on it, let it sit on your tongue, within a minute it dissolves, and it’s supposed to light up your tongue with little sizzling tingling vibrations,” he said.

 

Hermione frowned. “What for?” she asked.

 

George chuckled. “Any number of things, I suppose. Spicier kissing…pleasing your lover as you run your tongue over his body or he yours, oral sex, among other things,” he said. “They don’t last very long, according to the notes,” he shrugged. “I want to know what they taste like- nobody’s going to want to hold something on their tongue for a minute or so if it taste disgusting, regardless of what pleasures it might bring their partner.”

 

“Right,” she said and slowly picked up a shiny green one. “Colored just for the hell of it?”

 

“As far as I can tell,” he said. “You start, Hermione. And then Severus can try one and then after they’ve faded you can both do one together,” he said. “See how they affect each other and what not,” he said.

 

“Well, here goes then,” she said and without further ado she popped the little green pebble into her mouth.


	3. Progression

It only seemed to take a moment for the pebble to work its magic but in that moment she pulled her arms through the sleeves of her shirt and left it draped over her body. There was no sense in continuing to stand there topless as the current product did not seem to warrant it. At first it just felt like she had put a smooth marble onto her tongue; no flavor, no temperature, nothing. She rolled it along the roof of her mouth. But after a moment she could feel it starting to dissolve, like a burst of foam rippling over her tongue. For a moment her tongue felt completely numb and then it was alive with a tingling pins and needles sensation. Hermione pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth but didn’t notice much of a difference. As she slid her tongue out of her mouth and over her lips she noticed the difference. It was like holding a buzzing toy against her lips. “Oh!” she cried a bit surprised at the sensation; it was a rather powerful vibration.

 

“Good oh? Or bad oh?” George asked. “I’m not sure how long it lasts, maybe five minutes or so?” he glanced over the notes Fred had made in the green book. “Severus, I’m going to have her give you a kiss, tell me what you think,” he said.

 

She could feel the crimson flushing in her cheeks at George’s words, trying not to think back to the brutal but pleasing manner in which he’d kissed her the night before. Her eyes glanced at him and it made her stomach flip over. He was standing in front of her, half expectantly, his eyes neutral, lips the same, but there was something about the way he looked at her then, as if knowing her kiss regardless of the tingling tongue, would be inadequate. Hermione stepped closer to him and moved one hand up to cup his cheek.

 

Leaning up on her tiptoes she closed her eyes and brought her lips to his; slowly tracing his lips with the tip of her vibrating tongue. He didn’t pull back but she was too nervous to open her own eyes to see if he had closed his or not. She could feel her tongue vibrating rather strongly, like a tingling pulse as she gently pressed it against his lips. Surprisingly he parted his lips and she deepened the kiss; her hand still firmly cupping his cheek as she gently explored his mouth. It was hard to tell if he was kissing her back or if the vibrations were causing his tongue to feel like it was moving.

 

“Ahem,” George cleared his throat and Hermione blushed profusely, pulling back quite promptly. “Well?” he asked.

 

She didn’t dare bring her eyes to look at him, knowing that her cheeks were stinging with enough embarrassment to say it all. She felt him step back and through her lowered eyes watched him shrug his shoulders. “I don’t personally see the attraction to sucking on a vibrator,” he said flatly. “But if you’re looking to see that it feels like one, you’ve hit your mark,” he said.

 

Already she could feel the buzzing simmering down slightly. “It’s starting to fade a bit,” she said, turning around to face George.

 

“Oh, hmm,” he muttered flipping a few pages in the book. “Pop another one, will you? I had wanted you to test it a bit beyond just a kiss.”

 

Hermione swallowed hard. She cast a nervous glance at Severus who kept his features schooled to neutral perfection. Reaching over to the table she plucked up a purple pebble and popped it into her mouth. It took a moment, as the green one had, and then with a ripple of foam she could feel her tongue tingling. “Alright.”

 

“Severus, drop your trousers, I’ll have her tongue you a bit, see how it feels,” George gave the command as if he were asking them to brew a potion or something else as equally mundane. A cloud of butterflies seemed to take flight in her stomach, sending wave after wave of nerves shooting through her body as she watched his long elegant fingers move to the buckle of his belt and undo his trousers. Before she could help herself she found her eyes staring straight at his crotch as he pushed the fabric of his trousers and boxers down past his knees. “Hermione, kneel down, and just try gently licking him, shaft, tip, balls, just to get a general idea if it’s strong enough…or too strong,” he muttered, the sound of the quill scratching away in the background.

 

She was frozen solid; unmoving, unblinking, eyes fixed on his manhood, which at present was rather flaccid. The thick dark pubic curls that were nestled at the base of his shaft remained in the clean cut shamrock shape, though they were thankfully no longer green. She wasn’t entirely sure she was going to be able to do what had been asked of her, much less had he dropped his trousers and she had been confronted with the novelty coloring.

 

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat and she stifled the gasp as she felt herself suddenly being pulled forward and then gently pushed down, a firm hand upon her shoulders. Wide eyes gazed up at him and he was gazing down at her with a steady even look in his eyes; as if observing her in class. This made her flush but she was unable to look away, holding his gaze with trepidation, as if awaiting permission. She half expected him to thread his fingers into her hair and guide her lips forward. But he only stood there, hand still firmly gripping her shoulder.

 

Being on her knees brought her face quite close to his cock. She’d never done anything quite like this before and he knew it, she’d expressed as much the night before. Though she supposed George wasn’t actually asking her to perform the task so much as just experimentally move her vibrating tongue over his more sensitive bits. She shivered, a gush of heat rushing between her legs just thinking about the notion. Stop it. Stop it! Her mind screamed.

 

A cold round pebble was pressed against her lips and once again her eyes flew up to meet his. “At the rate you’re going that one’s probably stopped vibrating,” he muttered, holding the blue candy against her lips and pressing it firmly until it was in her mouth. “Go ahead, Miss Granger,” he whispered and then nodded at her.

 

Her whole body was wound tightly as she was presented with the prospect of her first ever oral encounter with male genitalia. One shaking hand moved to balance her frame against his hip, letting her palm touch his skin, which was surprisingly warm. Leaning her head slightly forward, the pebbled having dissolved into a wave of foaming vibrations, Hermione parted her lips and gently poked the tip of her pink tongue against the tip of his flaccid shaft. She jerked back, biting her lower lip when his cock twitched.

 

Severus was no longer looking at her; no longer gazing down at her. She didn’t know what to make of it, she supposed that feeling something vibrating as strongly as her tongue against a sensitive bit of nerves was bound to generate such a response. Drawing in a calming breath she slowly moved her tongue over and around the tip of his shaft, a slow sweeping motion that then trailed down the underside of his shaft until she was hovering quite close to his balls. Hermione closed her eyes; inhaling his scent, a musky and heady scent that filled her, causing another slight gush of heat to pool between her legs. She hadn’t noticed before; when she’d been applying the novelty coloring to his pubic hair the day before, but she also supposed that was because her nose hadn’t been pressed right at his crotch either.

 

Focus, just focus, her mind was trying to calm her nerves. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, threatening to pound through her rib cage and break out of her chest. She opened her eyes knowing that if she kept them closed she was bound to screw up somehow. With a nervous tremor, Hermione parted her lips once more and ran her vibrating tongue down over the tender sacks of flesh that held his testicles, watching in fascination as his cock began to twitch once more, growing more solid with every passing second.

 

She stroked her tongue around his balls, under them and then slowly back up his shaft, which was now semi-hard, slowly licking his tip. Repeating this pattern, Hermione continued to lick her tongue over him, watching with even more fascination than before as his cock began to lengthen; firming all the more with each passing stroke. It was no mystery as to how the penis worked in regards to going from flaccid to turgid during sexual arousal, but to see it happening before her eyes was rather astounding. She had never before been the direct result of such a phenomenon. And despite her nerves and embarrassment at finding the situation rather arousing, she was quite impressed with her ability, however meager.

 

The hand on her shoulder pushed her back slightly and she realized that the vibrations in her tongue had stopped. A bright hot flush flooded her cheeks and she lowered her head. But she couldn’t avert her gaze from his now mostly erect manhood. She forced herself to turn around and then slowly stood up, keeping her back to him as she heard him pulling his garments back up, fastening his belt in place.

 

“So what do you think?” George asked.

 

“It is stimulating,” he said crossing his arms over his chest, “Though unless you’re suffering from erectile dysfunction or hypersensitivity I cannot imagine that it wouldn’t be.”

 

“You didn’t find it pleasing?”

 

Severus shrugged his shoulders. “Again, not my particular preference, I don’t find vibrations necessary, but I should not be a judge for your male demographic, I’m sure there are plenty of men out there who will find such a product appeasing.” Severus nodded at George. “More so for the women, I imagine…having a vibrating tongue just about anywhere would be pleasing, one would think.”

 

“Right,” said George, making hasty notes in the ledger. “Well let’s test your theory, Hermione, take your shirt off, he can start with your nipple and move to your more sensitive bits.”

 

There wasn’t enough color left in her face to fulfill the blush that was trying to stain there. She supposed there would be little difference in his tongue against her nipple now than when he had been licking her for the taste of the novelty paints. Caught up in her thoughts once more, it was his withering gaze that roused her back to the present situation. Hermione began to fiddle with her shirt, pulling it off once more. “Should I just sit up on the table naked?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“Yeah, that would work too,” George said, idly waving at her while continuing to flip through page after page in the book.

 

She regretted asking the question aloud and could not for the life of her understand what had prompted her to do so. Although rationally he had seen all of her, albeit in separate halves, there was something dreadfully nerve wrecking about the thought of Severus Snape seeing her completely naked. Slipping out of her shirt she was a bit slower with her panties before hopping up on the table, completely naked. While she didn’t rush to cover her breasts she found herself fidgeting slightly, sliding her legs together and crossing them to hide her smooth sex from sight.

 

Severus had stepped forward dragging with him the stool from the previous day and with a simple brush of his hands pushed her legs apart. He stood between them, flush against the table now fully clothed, eyeing her chest for a moment. With a silent reach he plucked up a green pebble and popped it into his mouth. A moment later he quirked an eyebrow up on his forehead, the vibrations making his lips tremble slightly. “Buzzy,” he muttered and then leaned his head forward.

 

Parted lips met her nipple and her breath hitched audibly in her throat. His tongue began to lave over the pert bud which had already been slightly stiff. Hermione whimpered feeling the strong vibrations rippling through her skin, teasing her and causing her body to heat. Slow sweeping circles, just as before; around her areola, over the taut bud as his lips suckled against her and pulled her into his mouth. She inhaled sharply when he began to flicker just the buzzing tip of his tongue right against her pebbled flesh and she forced her eyes closed, trying not to think about how such a wet vibration might feel elsewhere.

 

“So it feels good then?” George asked, gazing at Hermione, who was now quite flushed, her body warmer than was comfortable despite being naked. “Why don’t you lay back so he can lick you a bit between your legs, see if the vibrations are too strong.”

 

Her body’s desperate desires were easily outweighing her mind’s rationale and she was flat back on the cool surface of the table before she’d even realized she’d lain down. She bit her lower lip hoping that there would not be a comment about her state of arousal, but she could hardly help it. Sticky heat had already pooled between her legs and it made her tremble as she heard him pull the stool closer to the table. “Oh!” she cried, his hands firmly on her hips, dragging her body to the edge of it.

 

Thoughts asunder, Hermione sat up to ease him in moving her, but before she could so much as brace her hands against the table, as she had done on his counter the night before, he was bowing his head slightly forward. Severus paused, reaching over top her thigh and grabbed a second candy, this one white. He sucked it between his lips and waited a moment before bringing his lips flush against her swollen slick labia. She bit her lower lip hard to keep from crying out as his vibrating tongue stroked a slow trek from the base of her sex straight up to her clit. She could not restrain her strangled cry of pleasure when the tip of his tongue flicked casually against her hooded nerve bundle.

 

If her arousal bothered him he said nothing, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him lest she find him smirking at her or sneering. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his tongue begin to sweep up and down through her sex, pausing after a few licks to delicately caress her sensitive bundle of nerves. She struggled not to grind her hips against him, but all the while jolt after jolt of pleasure raced through her body, bringing her dangerously close to the edge. Hermione could feel herself nearly about to break climax when his tongue, though moving idly against her lips, seemed to still, no longer vibrating.

 

A soft grunt of frustration was her only plea as he lifted his head and turned to George. “You’ll have to do something about the time in which the vibrations fade,” he said. “It would appear that it is just long enough to get a witch fully hot and bothered but not quite long enough to finish the deed.”

 

So very clinical; his commentary about the intimate act that he’d just performed, it made him sound cold, though she supposed she shouldn’t have expected otherwise, given that he’d turned her out after bringing her to that exact same edge the night before, leaving her in a heightened state with no release. “It’s— not too much,” she said, her voice husky and low. Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. “I mean it’s not— maybe I’m not that sensitive—”

 

“I’d beg to differ,” Severus said with a simple shrug. “I find you to be quite sensitive, but if the vibrations were not too harsh for your…sensitivities,” he trailed off and for a moment she thought she saw the ghost of a smirk cross his lips.

 

“No, not too harsh,” she muttered and then quickly crossed her legs. Seated at the edge of the table with her legs now dangling in front of his face she glanced over at George. “He is right, you need to have the vibrations last longer,” she repeated.

 

“Okay, okay,” said George, waving them off. He was scribbling in the ledger once more, nearly upending his pot of ink in his haste. “Can you both pop one and kiss?” he asked. “See how that works out?”

 

Hermione felt her stomach fluttering; her clit still tingling with the desperate need to be touched. She followed his hand with her eyes, watching him pluck up the last two pebbles from the crinkled paper on the table beside her. Severus held out his hand and she took the pink one from his palm, leaving him with another white one. Together they each took the candy into their mouths and waited.

 

Severus stood up, cupping her cheek as she had done him and pressed his tongue into her mouth. Hermione shrieked, pulling back as she slid down off the table; her whole body shuddering. George jumped up from his stool, knocking his pot of ink to the floor. “What?” he asked alarmed.

 

Hermione clutched at her lips as if she’d been burned. “Oow!” she cried. A well of tears rushed up to her eyes but she did her best to blink them back. Her tongue was stinging fiercely as if she’d stuck it into a live electrical socket.

 

Severus was also rubbing his lips though he had not made the fuss that she had. He narrowed his eyes at George. “It would appear they are not meant to be used together, it felt like a pulse of lightning burning through my tongue when it met her tongue,” he snapped. “That needs to be printed in large bold letters lest you find yourself with a lawsuit on your hands.”

 

George had moved to stand beside Hermione and was lightly pinching at her cheek. She opened her mouth, tongue lolling out. “Let me see,” he said, gently turning her head to examine her tongue. “Don’t see any scorches,” he said and then with a wave of his wand summoned an ice cube. “Here,” he said and placed it against her lips. Graciously she sucked it in and whimpered a sigh of relief as the ice met her tongue. “Do you want one?” he asked Severus.

 

“No,” he said, keeping his gaze on Hermione, watching as she rubbed the ice cube over her lips with her tongue.

 

“Right, well that’s going to need some work,” George said before returning to his stool. With a wave of his wand he cleaned up the spilled ink. “Just a few more for today I think,” he said. “If you’re alright?”

 

Hermione nodded her head. It took her another moment or two before the ice had melted away in her mouth. “Yes, that’s fine,” she said, licking her tongue around her lips as if to ensure they were still there and that it still worked.

 

“Right.” George stood and moved across the workshop to a stack of boxes. After rummaging through them for several moments he returned with a small black box. Emblazoned on the lid unmistakably was the Hogwarts Crest. He set it down on the table next to where she sat. “Here,” he said and nodded to the box.

 

Hermione’s brow knitted in confusion. “George, why is the Hogwarts Crest on this box?”

 

“Hogwarts House Pride Willy Wrappers.” He beamed.

 

“Condoms?” she exclaimed, lifting the lid of the box and blushing. Inside the box were four section, each filled with a series of foil pouches, color coordinated to each of the four Hogwarts houses. “Ribbed Ravenclaw?” she asked incredulously, lifting a shiny blue and silver square from one of the sections. “Slippery Slytherin?”

 

“Unique in their novelty purpose, one for each house,” he grinned.

 

Severus said nothing. Hermione seemed beside herself. “But—”

 

“You have used condoms before, haven’t you?” George posed the question, not really directing it to one or the other.

 

Severus nodded. She blushed before nodding as well. It had not been a particularly pleasant experience; a muggle boy from her childhood neighborhood the summer after fifth year. As memory served her it had been awkward and they had made her itch. She tried not to think about this as she gazed at the box.

 

“They are indeed a novelty in the wizarding community,” Severus said, eying the box. “And you intend to capitalize on that market,” he stated.

 

George nodded. “I know most wizards would just rather use a potion, but these will be fun…they’ll have a— well for lack of better word— a fun element to them.”

 

“A bit repetitive,” Severus muttered and then picked up the box, examining the silver packages with the green serpent emblem in the center of them. He held it between his fingers and then placed the box back on the table. “Might I?” he asked, nodding at George.

 

“By all means, I intend to have you test them, there’s a few there, so open one up and have a look.” Those words were all it took for Hermione’s whole body to go numb. Test them; which would no doubt mean to be using them for their intended purpose— as a protective implement of sex. Her eyes frantically flashed to Severus, who was busy removing the seemingly green and silver condom from its foil packaging, staring it at intently as if it were some rare potions ingredient to be cataloged and added to his stores.

 

“This one is particularly thick with lubrication,” he said.

 

George flipped over a page in his notes without looking up at them. “Umm…Slippery Slytherin, yes, coated with an extra-slick lubrication for shared super-pleasure…super pleasure?” he snorted. “You’ll have to do better than that, Fred,” he muttered gazing upward at the ceiling of the workshop. “You want to test that one first then, since you have it open?”

 

Severus shrugged and then gazed at Hermione. “I don’t see why not.”

 

“Great,” George stood from his stool and then moved over, clearing the rest of the marble table. “Erm, Hermione, why don’t you hop up on the edge, you can lie back here, and we can start once you get situated.”

 

She nodded dumbly; unable to respond otherwise. It had all been extremely awkward up until that point. But this had suddenly become the threshold of no return. He’d had his tongue between her legs, going so far as to do so the night before in an attempt to make her more prepared. She doubted there could be a more intimate act shared between a man and a woman and yet the prospect of feeling him; actually feeling him push his manhood into her vagina sent her roiling with unrestrained emotions that made no sense at all. Terror and exhilaration mingled with an assortment of flutters in her stomach and that sticky warmth flooding between her legs; all of those sensations bombarded her at once.

 

Once more she found herself seated on the edge of the table, slowly reclining back, gazing up at the ceiling of the workshop, too nervous to look anyplace else. The familiar sound of his trousers coming undone filled her ear; first the buckle and clasp and then the zip. She closed her eyes; feeling her heart thundering wildly in her chest. She was certain her knees were quaking, as they hung at the edge of the table, her whole body on edge as she felt him step between her legs as he had a moment before; parting them with his body.

 

“Now, Hermione,” George began, his voice sounding far away; muddled through the rushing blood in her ears. “If it’s too slick or slippery— or not slippery enough— I just need an idea on the levels, and whether or not it feels comfortable, alright?”

 

“Alright,” she said, her voice shaky and low. She had opened her eyes when he’d addressed her, tilting her head to the side to look at him, though his eyes were once again focused in the ledger.

 

“Severus, you too, let me know if its slipping off or gives you discomfort— shouldn’t have any grip resistance,” he said, scribbling something else in the ledger, motioning his hand in their direction to start.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, she held it; exhaling suddenly when she felt his hands on her hips. “Slide down a bit,” he said, guiding her hips to the edge of the table more, one hand pushing against the inside of her thigh to give him better access. She was trembling, unable to hide her body’s response to him and the notion that he was about to plunge his rigid cock into her tight dripping core. Already she could feel the tip of him, wrapped in the slickly lubed condom, at her entrance and again she forced her eyes closed.

 

Severus gripped her hip with one hand, the other holding the edge of the table and he pushed himself into her; slowly, fully, deeply. She whimpered; a strangled moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her. He was large; she had seen him but seeing him even when he was semi-erect had not prepared her for what that size would feel like inside of her. Not painfully large but large enough to fill her more thoroughly than she had ever been filled before. And he was wide; though she supposed she had nothing to really compare his girth to as the other boys— few that there had been— were rather slender. Perhaps this girth was average compared to what she had experienced.

 

He rested within her a moment before slowly and firmly pulling back, each agonizing inch of his cock sliding back out of her, making her whimper again. She could hear them talking; again sounding as if they were far away, muddled by the racing thrum of her heart that was echoing ferociously in her ears. They were exchanging words; something about ease and fluidity and the tingling sensation of the lubrication. And then they were calling her name. He was calling her name.

 

“W-what?” she stammered, feeling her body winding tightly with pleasure. He was gazing down at her, forcing her to look up at him with the intensity of his stare; as if he were trying to bore holes through her with his eyes. She could feel him, he was still moving; as if fucking her in slow motion. Gliding in with a firm but eased motion and then pulling back out. “What?” she repeated.

 

“How does it feel?” he asked, echoing the question George had asked.

 

But her response was a slight moan as he pushed himself into her a bit more firmly than before; shifting the speed at which he was previously moving. She gasped slightly, feeling as if her heart would rupture in her chest. “It’s…slick…” she tried to neutralize her voice, failing miserably to do so. It was more the slick it was sheer bliss; his cock, wrapped in a slippery liquid velvet stroking into her most intimate orifice; it was beyond pleasure it was heaven. But there were not enough coherent words in her mind to articulate such a feeling, she was struggling just to keep from bucking her hips up off the table and begging him for more.

 

“No resistance or discomfort?” George asked. Severus shook his head. Hermione could only do the same, no longer trusting her voice or vocabulary. “Right,” he said, making a secondary notation in the ledger, before scratching his head thoughtfully. “I’m torn,” he admitted, looking up from the book, catching Severus’s eye. “I want to test the others— but there are more practical tests that could be done on this but given the way the male body works…” he trailed off and sighed. “What do you think?”

 

Hermione was too lost in the sensation of him once again filling her to properly follow the conversation. He was buried to the hilt inside of her; stilled and not moving, but just being filled was enough to drive her mad; her walls clutching and pulsing slightly around him. If it bothered him or aroused him further he gave no indication, focusing completely on George and his question at that moment.

 

“I think that if you wish to fully test the product you should do whatever it is you have in mind while we have it here,” he said. “It isn’t as if there won’t be other opportunities for the others,” he said simply.

 

George nodded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Ok,” he said and then picked up his quill once more. “Can you finish? I want to make sure it will hold— it should, Fred’s notes indicate he used a standard construction for the condom itself, rather than just enchanting a muggle one, but I want to make sure there isn’t an issue with the additional lubricant.”

 

Severus nodded, turning his head back to gaze down at her. And when he spoke, she flushed furiously in her cheeks, turning her head to look away. “Wrap your legs up around me,” he said, taking his hand from the table to guide her right leg up around his backside.

 

She could feel her body throbbing; it was on fire and she could no longer tell if it was from sheer desire and pleasure or total mortification that he was basically instructing her through sex. But no sooner had her legs wrapped round him that he began to pump himself into her. Hermione cried out, startled and pleasured all at once. She bit her lower lip hard, too embarrassed to have made such a sound. But he was fucking her then and she was quickly losing her grip. Hard firm thrusts; quicker than before but not so rapid as to be completely without control. With her legs wrapped around him it allowed him to penetrate her more deeply, hitting a spot up inside of her that made her desperately want to cry out.

 

Hermione forced her eyes closed, clenching her fists at her side; it was an impossible battle— torn between trying to remain neutral and desperately wanting to give into the pleasures he was providing her by fucking her. And the slickness of the condom, mingling with her own arousal was only enhancing the wondrous sensations, sending shivers up and down her spine. “Ooh…” she moaned, unable to help herself,

 

Severus was silent, his eyes gazing down at her, never moving from hers, his body showing no signs of anything as he increased his pace slightly. And then without warning he was slamming hard fast strokes deep into her core; pumping rapidly several times before slamming solidly into her, and exhaling with a slight grunt; his body trembling slightly as he came. It was a silent orgasm, his cock shuddering slightly inside of her and had she not felt him deep within her she wouldn’t have known that he had finished.

 

He rested there a moment, his chest rising and falling quite heavily, though he still remained silent. And after that moment he eased himself out of her; pulling back, carefully clutching his cock as he did, turning his back to her once he’d slipped out of her. “Seems to hold just fine,” he told George, his voice sounding almost exactly the same as it had when he’d told her to wrap her legs around him, though slightly winded. “Doesn’t slip on pulling out either.”

 

Hermione closed her eyes; she’d come so close and still no release. She could hear Severus’s muttered charms, cleaning himself and vanishing the now used condom, the sound of his trousers and the belt coming back into place. She could hear George scribbling away in the ledger, but above all she could hear her heart still thumping wildly in her chest, her body still trembling slightly from what he’d done to her.

 

“Right,” it was George’s voice who broke her reverie. “Well, one down three to go but I suppose they’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” he said with a bit of a smile on his lips. “I’ve got—” he paused and glanced down in his ledger. “Well— I guess I don’t have— I thought I did but what I can easily put my hands on are all…well they’ll have to wait a bit, I’ve got heaps of things that need testing but nothing that you two could use at the moment, of course all the things you two could use at the moment I’ve rightly no idea where they are,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “So I guess we’ll wrap early today then.”

 

There was a brief nod exchanged between Severus and George, and without so much as a word, Severus swept from the room, leaving Hermione alone on the table, still naked. “Good work today, Hermione,” George said. “I’m going to take the ledger up to the flat and work for the evening, you can show yourself out, yes?” he asked hopefully.

 

Sitting up and crossing her legs, she drew her arms across her chest, still slightly dumbfounded at the whole experience. “Yes, of course,” she said, smiling weakly, watching him retreat from the room as well. It took her several moments after George had left to finally pull herself down off the table and dress. She wasn’t sure where she was staying that night, mostly likely The Burrow again, but one thing was for certain; she knew no matter where she stayed she would not be getting one wink of sleep.


	4. LustiPops & Malfunctions

The bright black and red swirl of the shiny lolly was a bit more than she’d come prepared for. Of course everything they’d encountered thus far had really been a bit more than she’d honestly been prepared for. “Lustipops?” she said again, for perhaps the dozenth time. Just saying the name made her shudder with things that were not particularly pleasant. They sounded horrific; just the notion that something was designed to be sucked on to get you in the mood. Why couldn’t people just naturally get into the mood? “Choco-cherry Lustipop,” staring intently at the phallic pop that was a deep crimson swirled with black. “George— did he actually mean for this to be practical?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

 

Severus looked equally unamused as he twirled a similar lolly in his fingers, only his was the same bright green and black swirl as the emerald chocolate nipple cream had been. “Choco-mint Lustipop,” he read and then shook his head. “The novelty aspect of this is indeed…novel,” he muttered, “Bordering on childish…but I do not think they’re practical. If you want them to jump-start arousal you want something that you can easily keep in your mouth at the very least, if not swallow entirely,” he said with a simple shrug before putting it back into the holder alongside a few other flavors.

 

George sighed. “I guess he just figured it would be a fun and flirty way to get things started, or in this case, restarted,” he shrugged and dipped his quill into the red inkpot, scribbling in the ledger once more. “What do you think, Hermione?”

 

She contemplated it for a long moment. “I think I agree with Severus,” she said slowly. “First of all— your target audience— if you’re shooting for the regenerative aspect— is not going to want to suck on a lolly to do it, especially not one shaped like this,” she paused a moment. “Come to think of it— even if it were just for getting started I don’t know that I’d want to suck on it either,” she said a bit nervously.

 

“Does it taste funny?” George asked seeming to ignore her comment on the shape entirely.

 

“Haven’t tasted it yet— I think I’m plenty lusted up after that fuck,” she said simply. It was crass and careless, but if he could be apathetic and cold so could she. She had resolved herself, while not sleeping at Percy’s flat the night prior, that she wasn’t going to be showing anymore anything as far as he was involved. He’d fucked her the day before with nothing so much as a command to wrap her legs around him. And today had been even worse; the glare that clearly reflected some sort of minor annoyance that she had wanted a moment to prepare herself. So she’d given up trying to hide her arousal like it was something to be ashamed of. If he was going to ignore it then so was she.

 

George chuckled. “Guess women don’t really need to be re-stimulated to go again, do they?” he said with a slight sigh. He’d had them test the second in the box of house condoms— the Ribbed Ravenclaw, which as it turned out only had one rib on it and was going to need modifying before it would be marketed correctly; though for consistency’s sake he’d had Severus unload himself in it once more just to test the condom’s durability.

 

That had left them standing; both in robes that George had brought for them so they wouldn’t have to be constantly dressing and undressing; holding the Lustipops in their hands, pondering them. Hermione handed the Choco-cherry one to Severus who took it and glared at it as he had been with the mint one. “Why is it assumed that all sexual pleasure toys must be flavored with either cherry or mint?” he muttered.

 

“The oils are probably the easiest to distil and not be lethal or foul,” she said simply and then walked over to George. “I don’t think having me try it at the moment would do you any good. I could go again— most women could— so it might be a waste of a pop,” she glanced back over at Severus. “But he’s worth a shot.”

 

“Well?” George said.

 

Severus rolled his eyes and then peeled the nearly invisible plastic wrapper back off the bright red and black swirled phallus shaped lolly. He pushed the thing into his mouth and held it there before pulling it out. “This is cloyingly sweet,” he muttered and then sucked it back in. “And you’ll be hard pressed to find a straight-oriented man who wants to suck a cock-shaped lolly regardless of how fast it gets him re-aroused,” he said and then stopped talking, again gently sucking on the lolly. Another moment or two had passed and he pulled the pop from his mouth, setting it upright in its stand. He undid the lapels of his robe and held them open. “About three minutes give or take I was talking,” he said, gazing down at his hardened erection.

 

“Right,” George said, making a note. “Hermione, will you—”

 

She nodded, walking back over to where Severus stood at the work table. She didn’t look at him, not at his eyes anyhow, as she moved to stand in front of him, her hand reaching out and gently curling around his shaft. “He’s hard, a solid firmness,” she said and stroked her hand up over his tip. “Doesn’t seem to be fading,” she said and then released his cock from her hand after another few strokes. She ignored the thrilling pulse that shot up her spin at touching his hardness. The fact that he’d been but moments ago plowing himself into her had nothing to do with it or at least she was attempting to convince herself of that fact.

 

“Did you want to do the Hufflepuff Happy or the Gryffindor Glow-in-the-Dark next?” she asked, after calming her voice enough to speak. She turned her gaze to the two remaining foil pouches in the Hogwarts House Condom box. “I don’t have a preference,” she added.

 

George continued to scribble in his notebook. After a moment he set his quill in the inkwell and moved over to the table. “So you think that a lozenge might be better?” he asked Severus.

 

“It would be more discreet,” he said simply. “Certainly not so crass as to have to suck upon a cock pop, though with the correct marketing that sort of novelty could appeal to the gay man’s ego,”

 

“Not even my ego finds that appealing,” George admitted with a sour face. “And Hermione?” he asked.

 

“No, George— I didn’t even taste it and I just…for a hen’s party yes, a little novelty gift bag lolly- but not as a functional rejuvenator or starter, it’ s just too…I don’t even know…bit too much, I guess.”

 

He sighed. “Right. I’ll tinker with the formula tonight and see if I can’t turn this Lustipop into a LustiLozenge,” he said with a bit of a grin.

 

“And not cherry,” they found themselves saying in unison. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she blushed. She hated artificial cherry; it was reminiscent of plastic and soap all at the same time. And apparently Severus Snape did not care for it either.

 

She could still feel the slight throb between her legs from when he’d just finished fucking her with the single ribbed condom. She hadn’t come then but she had felt herself getting close and she silently prayed that when they tested the next condom, if she did manage to finish that she would at least be modest and quiet about it.

 

“Go ahead and try the Hufflepuff Happy,” George said, making big red inky letters over the word ‘cherry’ in his ledger book. “There are no notes about what it’s supposed to do— but I imagine it’ll be apparent rather quickly…” he trailed off and then summoned his stool over with the ledger so that he could watch and take notes as Hermione and Severus prepared to test the next condom.

 

Without needing to be prompted, Hermione hopped up onto the work table. For being a marble table the surface felt a good deal more malleable than it had when she’d sat upon it the day before. She couldn’t tell if it was because a charm had been cast to soften the surface or because her body was adjusting. Leaning back she pushed her robe open, there was no sense in removing it entirely, and leveled her back against the table, waiting for Severus as he extracted the condom from its foil pouch.

 

Immediately she began to laugh. Severus was frowning, looking rather displeased, Hermione’s giggling only serving to antagonize his irritation. “Hufflepuff Happy…” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he held the rubber in his hands. It was a garish almost electric shade of yellow with little black smiley faces microscopically printed all over the latex. No doubt when he would slip it on the faces would stretch a good deal larger and look ridiculous. The rim of the condom was quite thick, almost hard and plastic like, which intrigued him, but not enough to dismiss how truly atrocious the thing looked as a whole.

 

“Just a novel design?” Hermione asked.

 

George gazed at the two of them expectantly, half grinning, half curious. “My brother was a genius,” he said and then turned to scribble a quick note in the ledger before bringing his eyes back to Severus. The Lustipop had indeed done its job for the dour man remained at attention despite the repulsive condom held in his hand.

 

“That is questionable at best, Mr. Weasley,” Severus muttered. As he slid the condom onto the length of his cock he groaned just a bit. “Bugger,” he swore under his breath; the first audible utterance that had left his lips and had not been a direct commentary on the product itself.

 

Hearing this caused Hermione to sit up from the table and raise her eyebrows slightly. “What’s the matter?” she asked, watching as his facial muscles tensed slightly.

 

“It would appear that this particular condom is designed to sustain pleasure,” he said tersely.

 

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.

 

Severus, who was now standing just in front of her, cock well hidden in the bright yellow rubber, sighed. “The rimmed edge of the condom is acting like a suppressant,” he said. And then rolled his eyes seeing the bewildered look upon both Hermione and George’s faces. “It’s acting like a cock ring…to keep the man from bursting like Freddy Firstie on his first go,” he said, his voice pinched ever so slightly.

 

A soft snort echoed from George, but it was Hermione’s reaction that seemed to puzzle him the most. She still looked slightly perplexed. Turning her doe-wide cinnamon eyes up to his she let the hint of a frown grace her lips. “I don’t think I understand—”

 

“Miss Granger, if I have to explain to you at this point how the male anatomy works, then I’m truly at a loss as to how you made it this far in life.”

 

His words stung, not so much of an angry sting but a bitter and rather furious one. But she kept her calm, after all, there was no sense in causing a fuss or making a scene. She needed the money and it wouldn’t do to have him storming out of the job, though considering his own situation, she very much doubted he would. Though she didn’t want to change it. “Had you not interrupted me,” she said pointedly, but did not raise her voice. “I was going to say that I don’t think I understand why you’re so displeased…I would think most men would be rather happy to have assistance in sustainability.”

 

George was still scribbling away in the ledger, flipping pages back and forth, comparing notes. Severus held her gaze after hearing her statement, but said nothing for several long moments. It was as if he were studying her, searching her eyes, though she felt no mental intrusion and decided that he wasn’t attempting to invade her thoughts. But it unnerved her that he continued to stare. Hermione’s shoulders stiffened when his hand came forward and tipped her chin up just slightly, as if gazing into the eyes of a defiant child.

 

“I am not most men,” his whisper was so subtle she wasn’t entirely sure that he had actually spoken. A part of her was convinced her mind was playing tricks on her, and had it not been for the shiver that shot up her spine as his fingers released her chin, she would have sworn she’d imagined it. He made no motion to step back from the table, his body quite close to hers, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.

 

“There’s a note,” George’s voice broke the peculiar tension that had mounted between them in that moment. They both turned their heads to look at him. “It’s barely legible but it looks like it says, test riding up,” he frowned and then flipped another page. “Test riding up?” George scratched his head and then flipped the two pages back and forth as if staring at them in that manner would somehow make his brother’s cryptic note clearer. “Test riding up…test…riding— oh!” he said, a sudden eureka moment hitting him. “I think he means it should be tested upright, with her riding your lap.”

 

If Hermione hadn’t been shaken before, she was certainly shaken by this latest statement. Ride him? As in to literally straddle her legs across his lap and have sexual intercourse in that fashion? Her entire body seemed to stiffen in that moment as she contemplated the notion. While she had personally never had sex in any other position other than lying flat on her back, she was well aware that there were many other styles in which other people went about having intercourse. She had just never given any of them much thought as she had never been in a position to try them out.

 

“You think you can manage that, Hermione?” George’s voice cut clear through her jumbled thoughts.

 

“What?” she asked, shaking her head slightly. “Oh, yes, um, I don’t see why not…” her eyes gazed at Severus, who looked none too pleased at the suggestion. “I mean, if that’s alright with—”

 

“Fine,” he said, waving his hand dismissively at her.

 

She had half expected him to refuse. Though she supposed that there was little point in refusing after everything they’d done already. What surprised her was when he grabbed the nearby stool and then stalked over to where his robes hung from the hook near the workshop door, returning a moment later with his wand. “If we’re going to do this, it needs to be done right,” he said and then pointed his wand at the stool.

 

Seldom, if ever, had Hermione seen Severus Snape use a wand. Knowing full well that he believed most magical spells to be foolish wand waving, and knowing that he preferred wandless and often wordless magic, she was shocked to see him begin to transfigure the stool. Her eyes were glued to the wood as it began to shift its shape, stretching and lengthening until he had made a solid, albeit uncomfortable looking, cushionless armchair. She watched in awe as he slipped out of his robe and draped it over the chair, another swish of his wand turning the material into simple cushions that covered the entirety of the newly created piece of furniture.

 

Hermione had always been impressed with his magical skill, but actually seeing him perform magic had left her completely speechless. She did, however, note that while involving himself with the transfiguration he’d gone a good deal soft. Slipping down off the table she plucked up the mint flavored Lustipop and carefully peeled back the wrapper. It crinkled slightly in her hands, the harsh sound filling the workshop as she moved slowly over to Severus. “Here,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

 

He nodded, though unpleased at the prospect of having to utilize the product, and then sucked the pop into his mouth. Immediately he spit the lolly back out, his lips puckered as if he’d licked a lemon. “This is dreadful,” he said and handed it back to her.

 

Curiosity having always been a great weakness, she popped the phallic lolly into her mouth and just as he had, immediately pulled it back out. “George, I think Fred got the flavors wrong, or at the very least the label…it’s some sort of tart citrus,” she shuddered and then quickly placed the lolly back in the stand, grabbing up the cherry one instead. This caused a great sigh of annoyance from Severus, but he took the pop and within moments his cock was once more fully firm, standing erect inside the bright yellow smiley face-printed condom.

 

“Lime maybe?” George asked, flipping back several pages to make a note about what was supposed to be the choco-mint Lustipop.

 

Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders, taking the pop back from Severus and placing it in the holder. She noted that he hadn’t yet sat down in the makeshift armchair, though he was standing stark naked, save for the condom, as if waiting for her. “I don’t know I would call that lime…”

 

“Right.” George scribbled away and then paused a moment. “I guess just have a go with this and note problems as they arise?” he said. “Finish as you have been and once you do we can take a break, maybe I’ll order us in dinner up in my flat,” he offered. “I’d like us to work late tonight if that’s alright with you both.”

 

She smiled politely at the offer and then nodded her head. “It’s fine with me,” she said and took a hesitant step toward Severus. He nodded silently and then slowly sank down into armchair, the makeshift cushions from his transfigured robe giving slightly under the weight of his frame. The concept seemed simple enough, straddle his lap, and slide herself down onto his cock; it wasn’t, after all, ancient ruins and alchemy. But she could feel her nerves standing on end.

 

Taking two steps toward him she found herself standing just in front of where he sat, a nervous blush filling her cheeks. She didn’t need to say that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing as she was sure that much was written clear as day across her face. A nervous glance into his eyes made her blush all the more; he appeared to be evaluating the situation. There was a moment of agonizing silence and then he sighed, and she bit her lower lip, feeling dreadfully inadequate, terribly aroused, and thoroughly perplexed all at once.

 

“Take your robe off, it will make it easier,” he said. His tone was not harsh or demeaning as she had expected, though it certainly wasn’t tender. Instructional; as if he were once again her teacher, trying to import some great knowledge into her mind. This made her flush all the more; the thought of Severus Snape teaching her about sex was mortifying. Though in hindsight she realized that was exactly what had been happening. She’d gone to his house not but two nights before to receive an additional lesson of sorts, and he’d guided nearly everything they’d done in the workshop thus far. She was taking sex lessons from Severus Snape.

 

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but did not wish to make herself seem anxious or as nervous as she felt and she certainly didn’t want him to have to bother with the Lustipop again. Closing her eyes she let her arms fall flat against the sides of her body, slowly shrugging her shoulders until the robe slipped down her frame and puddled on the floor around her feet. She was still completely bare between her legs; the little trick formula that had denuded her having quite the lasting power. She wasn’t sure why this made her more nervous; perhaps the fact that her swollen pink labia seemed even more exposed without pubic hair to hide them. Thinking about it only made her blush, which made meeting his gaze very, very difficult.

 

She inhaled sharply, caught off guard when both of his hands clutched her around her hips and pulled her forward, forcing her to bend her knees a bit to keep from completely collapsing against him and down into the chair. It took a moment, with the guidance of his hands, before she was able to settle herself into his lap, her knees folded with her heels pressing upward into the back of her ass. She was straddled over his lap, her naked sex resting against his crotch, his erection pressed up firmly against her mound. Being in his lap made her feel small; not that he was an overly large man, his frame was slender though toned with muscles, and being in the chair took away the element of his looming height. But she couldn’t help how much tinier she felt astride him; almost childlike.

 

Hermione could feel his eyes watching her as she nervously shifted her weight, trying to decide how best to angle her hips up to slide herself down onto his condom-covered cock. His words froze her and she stiffened, feeling his hands once more— though she wasn’t entirely sure they had ever left her hips— gripping her more firmly as if to raise her body up from his lap.

 

“Lift your hips,” he said, one hand easing away from her hip to grip the base of his cock, holding it still as he waited for her to do as he had instructed her.

 

Her legs trembled slightly as she arched her hips upward, giving him enough space to line the tip of his cock at her entrance. She was soaking; not damp but wet beyond compare and there hadn’t even been foreplay involved. The prospect of sliding down his large shaft sent shivers racing up her spine. But holding herself up above him was starting to cause a tremor in her leg. With one hand pressed flat against his chest, Hermione rolled her hips slightly forward and eased her weight downward, effectively, albeit slowly, impaling herself on his cock.

 

She moaned, unable to help herself as he filled her; condom or no condom he was long and thick and stretched her. Having only experienced his cock twice before her body was still adjusting to his size. Her mind was reeling out of control in that moment and she forced herself to sit absolutely motionless in his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her.

 

“You alright?” George called, noting that they seemed to be sitting still.

 

“Yes,” she panted; a breathy whisper. This caused her cheeks to flood with scarlet. Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes, George, I’m fine, just need a moment to adjust…” she said, twisting her hips a bit.

 

“Right,” he said and then nodded at Severus. “And you?”

 

He nodded his head. “She is extremely tight,” he said plainly, not a hint of wavering control loss in his voice. “Though this condom seems to be doing wonders for that as I can hardly feel her.”

 

“Hmm…I wonder if that’s something that should be adjusted.” George was speaking aloud, not really to either one of them and once again he took to scribbling in his ledger.

 

“I would imagine that if the design of this device is to keep the partner ‘happy’ as so aptly mentioned in the name…leaving it as is would be just fine.” Severus let his hands fall away from her body, resting his forearms idly on the arms of the makeshift chair. “Though you may want to adjust just how long such a condom cuts off sensation…” he said.

 

“You don’t have any sensation?” George asked, his brows furrowing.

 

“I didn’t say that, Mr. Weasley,” Severus paused a moment and then leaned his head to the side to gaze beyond Hermione’s shoulder to where the other wizard sat. “But given that the sensation is limited, no doubt a side effect of the product’s functionality, it may take a less skilled wizard a much longer time to recover afterward, and if left to his own devices he may not finish after a prolonged period of restraint in this nature.”

 

The words swam over Hermione’s head. She was not familiar with the notion of cock rings, and particularly not this new concept that a condom could serve as one. She supposed in passing she had read about their helpful uses in sustaining a man’s pleasure, and if she took a moment to gather her thoughts on the male anatomy she could actualize what he was saying. But all of that was lost on her in the moment as she felt that pulsing throbbing need deep inside of her; the sensation of being filled by him only perpetuating that sensation.

 

Timid and slightly trembling fingers reached out and gripped his shoulders, giving herself leverage as she slowly began to raise her hips upward, gliding up the length of his shaft, nearly pulling him all the way out of her before she slowly sank back down onto him. It took every ounce of self control she possessed not to moan and whimper as the feeling of his thick shaft filled her once more. Every nerve in her body was tingling as she began to raise her hips up again, the clenching pull of her inner walls, slick and heated, giving a slight friction that made her stomach roil in pleasure.

 

Hermione kept her eyes closed for several minutes as she rode up and down on his shaft; the slow gentle up and down motion filling her body with a burning heat that started inside of her where their bodies were joined and bubbled up through the rest of her being. She kept her fingers gripped tightly against his shoulders, using his body to ease her motions. It was his hand on her hip that caused her eyes to blink wide open, her gaze immediately focused on his.

 

“If you go at that pace we’ll be in this chair for an hour,” he said flatly. The hand that was on her hip was no longer just touching her but gripping her flesh; firmly but not harshly. She could feel the way the pads of his fingers dug into her skin and it caused her to whimper just slightly. Not in the least because it was causing her pain but because he was touching her. His touch was beyond pleasurable and causing her to slowly lose the control that she was trying so hard to maintain.

 

“Right…” she panted, her voice breathy but not nearly as wanton as she had sounded when she’d first answered George.

 

“Like this,” he said, his other hand taking up purchase on her right hip, both of his hands now gripping her, and lifting her up more firmly than she had been lifting herself. Up and down, up and down. While he had not increased her tempo drastically, it was a noticeable difference. There was more heat and friction as he bounced her a bit more sturdily in his lap than she had been. All the while his eyes gazed into hers, as if simply trying to have something to focus on. “Use your weight against my shoulders,” he said, encouraging her to move with him as he arched his hips up slightly to meet her on a downward thrust. 

 

Sex was not meant to be so technical. But despite the way he was treating it her body was heating. And she found that it was extremely difficult to focus on everything he was saying. She had been trying so hard to keep from losing herself entirely; after all he seemed to be perfectly fine, though somewhere in the back of her lust-fogged brain she recalled that the current product was reducing his sensation. Hermione blinked her eyes several times as if trying to focus, though it did little to help. Up and down; his hands still on her hips, half guiding her, though now she was moving a bit more on her own. He stretched her; filled her more fully than anything she’d ever felt and it was driving her mad.

 

Hermione closed her eyes, her head falling slightly forward and she could feel the mass of her hair, which she’d failed to pin up, clinging to her neck, little beads of sweat damping her skin. It took everything she had not to moan as she felt herself beginning to tighten; her walls trembling and clenching more furiously at him as she rocked her hips a bit more forcefully than before. Her body was practically writhing atop him though she was doing her best to keep it from showing. Every nerve ending within her was slowly blazing into an uncontrollable fire and she could feel little jolts of blinding pleasure with each downward shift of her body; the way their bodies met nudging her clit just so.

 

She inhaled sharply as she slid down hard on his shaft; feeling him not only hitting something wickedly pleasurable within her but also pushing her to her limit of what she could take. Her head lulled forward a bit further and she buried her face against the crook of his neck, panting as silently as she could manage, her lips brushing against his skin, eyes closed. For a moment, though it was hard to find coherent thought, she was certain he would force her head upright. But the only thing she felt was the up and down motion, faster than before, of riding his cock. His thick turgid cock, regardless of being covered in the ridiculous condom, driving up into her. It wasn’t like before when she’d been laid back on the table and he was in complete control. This was different. This was her moving atop him, and even though he was guiding her hips and arching up to meet her, she was riding him. Something she had never attempted with another partner and something that she was relishing in the moment.

 

Her body was hot; rivulets of sweat now running down her back and between her shoulder blades and her silent panting was now a keening whimper. She could no longer concentrate on trying to hold back, on trying to be quiet; the sensations were too great. Her lips were still brushing against his skin and without even realizing it so was her tongue. The taste of his flesh, slightly salty and warm, made her tremble as she bounced up and down in his lap. The frenzied friction was nearly undoing, but it was the hand against the back of her head, not pulling her up away from his neck, but resting there, as if holding her there, that did it.

 

Hermione felt her body seize, her toes curling instinctively despite being pressed awkwardly up against her backside. She’d achieved an orgasm before, but never during sex, and never with something quite so filling for her walls to clench around. Spasms shot through her and she began to quake, a low sound that was caught somewhere between a cry and a moan escaping her lips as her body gave over to the waves of pleasure that radiated through her. By no means was it the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt, but it was indeed pleasurable, enough to take her completely out of her mind for the handful of blissful moments that it lasted.

 

She felt her body collapse, her lungs weighing heavy in her chest as she tried to regain control of her breathing, her body feeling just a little bit spent. His hand had not moved from the back of her head but in that moment all she could focus on was how he was still buried to the hilt inside of her and how strange a feeling it was to have felt her own orgasm from actual intercourse and on top of it that he was still hard and inside of her. This dawning realization caused a frantic scramble of sorts as Hermione thrust her head up, pulling back from his body enough to gaze awkwardly into his eyes. Her cheeks, which were already fully flushed with the heat and color of her release, stung even warmer as she realized how sentimentally intimate she’d just been with him.

 

There were no words, and she found that despite her best efforts his eyes were impossible to read. So for a moment they sat in silence, she still astride his cock and he simply staring at her. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, but felt strange simply sitting there. After all they were meant to be testing the condom. Hermione bit her lower lip, looking thoroughly perplexed and fully shagged.

 

“It would appear this one serves its purpose,” said Severus after a moment, though he made no motion to dislodge her from her current position. She had expected him to sound snide, or at the very least let his lips curl into a smirk, but his voice was level and she noted with slight disappointment that he was gazing over her shoulder in George’s general direction. “To maintain a durational erection in order to please one’s partner…”

 

“Right,” George said. “Hermione you feel alright? Didn’t give you any pains or feel out of place?”

 

It took a moment before she realized that she had been addressed. “Er, yeah it was fine…just fine,” she said and then turned her head to look back over her shoulder. “How should we—”

 

“He can finish,” George shrugged his shoulders. “Switch up positions if you need to, or what have you,” he said standing from the stool. “And let me know if there are any issues, I’m assuming it’ll hold up just like the other two did.” The redhead put the ledger down and walked over to the table, picking up the final foil pouch from the box of condoms. “I’ll be this needs to be exposed to light before it’ll function, so I’m going to open it now, we can give this one a test after dinner,” he said and then tore into the little pouch. Placing the condom gently atop the box, George turned and retrieved the ledger. “I’ll order us some dinner, meet me up in the apartment when you two finish up, the password is wonky wanker.”

 

She was practically climbing out of lap as soon as George began to walk toward the stairs. So quickly that she nearly fell over once she did manage to stand; Hermione hadn’t realized how much pressure she’d been putting on her legs in that position and her calves and ankles had fallen asleep. It was such a bizarre situation; both of them still completely naked, her now slick and dripping with her own release and he still rock hard wearing the ridiculous yellow smiley-faced condom. The sound of the door to the apartment seemed to jar her thoughts, leaving her standing awkwardly just in front of him. “Er should—”

 

“Climb up on the table,” he said, just as he had said earlier in the afternoon when they’d tested the rather incomplete ribbed condom. Hermione was at a loss for words and longed more than anything to put her clothes back on. It wasn’t that it hadn’t been entirely pleasurable, it had just incidentally been the most peculiar bout of sex she’d ever experienced in her life. But not wanting to prolong the inevitable she climbed up onto the table and for a moment sat with her legs dangling over the edge. “Lay back…” he said as he stood from the chair and moved to stand between her legs. “Or don’t,” he shrugged and then gripped her hips, positioning himself at her entrance once more.

 

The sudden thrust of his cock once more nestled deep within her caused her to gasp audibly. Hermione forced herself to shut her eyes, but only did so for a moment, immediately thinking better of it. If her eyes were closed, her mind would wander and the last thing she needed was a wandering mind while he continued to fuck her. The threat of once again becoming terribly intimate and familiar with him was enough to keep her eyes open as he began to thrust into her in earnest; moving much harder and faster than she had when she’d been astride his cock.

 

His face was as unreadable as his eyes; but she couldn’t take her own eyes off him. There was something unnatural about not looking at him and she didn’t trust her own imagination if she closed her eyes. This left Hermione staring up at him as he pounded into her; moving hard and fast, working her quickly into another frenzy of heated friction and pleasured jolts deep in her core. “Ooh…” she moaned, consequences be damned as she felt herself approaching a secondary orgasm. One that was not quite achieved as she felt him slam into her in rapid succession, his cock shuddering. A burst of heat and liquid filled her and for a moment it was near ecstasy; so close to her own climax that she welcomed feeling his.

 

It wasn’t until he began to pull out of her that she felt the stickiness running down the crease of her thigh. At first she thought nothing of it; her own juices from being so close to her second orgasm. But she watched him carefully as he held his slowly deflating cock in his hand, the slightly purplish head now visible through a hole at the tip of the condom. Her stomach dropped; her whole body flushing with a cold numbness for the briefest of moments.

 

Severus, who did not seem perturbed in the least, muttered some sort of scourgifying spell that cleared the remains of the broken condom away and cleaned his member. He turned and picked up his discarded robe, slipping it on over his frame before moving meticulously across the room to the hook where his frock coat hung with his other garments. Within a moment he had returned to where she was now sitting up on the table, a tiny vial pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

 

For a moment, Hermione simply stared at the cloudy blue liquid. Her mind was trying to process everything that had happened, and a part of her mind was still reeling from once again missing out on an orgasm. But after a moment of sitting silently and staring she noticed that the vial was growing closer to her face. Largely because Severus had extended his hand to her. She shook her head as if to startle herself awake from her lost and confused thoughts. “What—”

 

“A preventative measure,” he said simply. “I’ve been bringing one every day but we have not yet had a need for it. It won’t affect any regimen you might currently be on,” he paused. “Not that I imagine you’d have reason to be on one,” he added with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

 

This simply flabbergasted her. The smirk that she saw before it vanished from his lips, that slight tone in his voice. All too reminiscent of the night she’d visited him at Spinner’s End. And certainly baring echoes of every verbal torment he’d ever laid upon her during her days as a student at Hogwarts. She took the vial, perhaps snatching it from his fingers a bit harder than was necessary, but downed it all the same. It was slightly bitter and had a grainy texture to it, but she tried not to notice as she swallowed the liquid. The glass container vanished once emptied and satisfied that she wasn’t going to throw it up, Severus turned and walked back to the rack where his clothes were hung, beginning to dress.

 

“I am, though,” she said, hopping down from the table. Hermione didn’t bother with the robe, muttering her own wandless cleansing charms to freshen up before she moved over to near where he stood, plucking up her knickers and stepping into them. “On a regimen.”

 

Severus was already in his trousers, adjusting the belt in its loops and reaching for his white undershirt when she began to slide her arms into the straps of her bra. They stood near enough to one another that it might have been awkward had they not just been having sex, essentially for money, on the table across the room. He said nothing for a long moment as he slipped into the long sleeves of his button down shirt and began to fiddle with the cuffs. “Indeed.”

 

Hermione silently rolled her eyes and then stepped into the skirt she had worn that day, figuring it would be easier to take on and off, but that was before she had been presented with the bathrobe from George. “Why do you bother dressing fully back up? He’s only going to have us get naked again after dinner,” she found herself saying without thinking; amazed at how quickly Severus had done up all of his shirt’s buttons and moved onto his frock coat.

 

He didn’t answer her, unless the slight dismissive wave of his hand was meant to serve as an answer. She sighed, though quietly, and continued to dress. He was nearly to the top of the stairs at the back of the workshop by the time she’d slipped back into her sandals. Scurrying to catch up with him she came up behind him just as he muttered the password and slipped into George’s flat. Hermione was not surprised to find the place looking absolutely disastrous as she entered on Severus’ heels.

 

“George, we’ve finished,” she called, wondering if he had gone out to retrieve their dinner or if he was simply in another room and intending to have it ordered in. There was no response from anywhere inside of the flat. It occurred to her that she had never actually been up inside George’s flat. Not while he and Fred had shared it and certainly not since. And despite the fact that it was in a state of perpetual chaos, it was rather roomy and seemingly nice. The room they appeared to be in was a sitting room of sorts, buried beneath copious amounts of clothes, magazines and Merlin knew what else was a sofa, and opposite it two chairs, one on either side. A coffee table, covered completely by various bottles and soda cans, coffee cups, and tea mugs, rested in front of the sofa between it and the hearth, which looked as if it hadn’t ever been lit.

 

Hermione took a moment to gaze around. Up off to the side of the sitting room was a half wall that led into the kitchen with a small table and two chairs. Dishes were piled nearly a mile high in the sink and she rolled her eyes. Men could clearly not be left to live on their own, at the very least, not Weasley men. Alongside the kitchen there was a door, presumably the one that led out into the main staircase of the shop. On the opposite side of the sitting room was a narrow hallway lined with two doors on either side and one at the end. All five doors were closed. If George was within he apparently wasn’t coming out.

 

She opened her mouth to call again, only to be thwarted before she could be properly silenced, by Severus’ raised hand, his finger gesturing to the green ledger book that rested atop the counter ledge of the kitchen’s half-wall. On top of the ledger was a piece of parchment, a note scribbled in George’s chicken scratch.

 

“Right,” she said and retrieved the note. Her eyes scanned the inky letters and she shrugged. “He’s gone to fetch food from The Leaky Cauldron, make ourselves comfortable, he’ll be back in a bit.” Hermione frowned. As if it weren’t awkward enough, how on earth were they to make themselves comfortable in the hovel of a flat he called home? She sighed. “Right then,” and after a moment’s decision she drew her wand.

 

If there was one thing she was good at it was cleaning spells. With several rapid flicks of her wrist various beams of light began to shoot across the sitting room. Piles of clothes were levitating up into the air, shirts began to fold themselves while a dustbin and broom materialized from nowhere and began to sweep the floor. She grinned as bottles and cans made their way into the bin and mugs of all shapes and sizes zoomed toward the sink in the kitchen. Within moments the sitting room as tidy and suitable for sitting in. The clothes were all folded and stacked neatly in one arm chair and the papers and various books were now stacked neatly in the other, freeing up the sofa.

 

In hindsight it would have done her better to have cleared the chairs rather than the sofa, but she would make do, as she came to sit down as close to the right arm of the sofa as possible. “Make ourselves at home,” she said with a shrug, glancing up at Severus, waiting to see if he would join her or not.

 

Much to her surprise, after only a moment’s silent debate, Severus did move around to the sofa and sit down beside her, though with practically a full cushion between them for as close to the left arm as he sat. Hermione hoped that George would return sooner rather than later as she could already feel the awkward tension mounting between them as the silence grew. Feeling nervous she glanced about the room. “Are you chilled, should I light the fire?”

 

He shook his head, reserving his words, and then continued to gaze forward at the empty hearth.

 

“Should I put a kettle—” she frowned, wondering if she could even begin to find a kettle in the menagerie that George called a kitchen. “Should I make us some tea?”

 

Severus snorted. “I doubt very much Mr. Weasley has the proper instruments for making tea, Miss Granger, and even if he did I do not find myself fancying having a cuppa from anything in that landfill.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling slightly bolder, more annoyed and less awkward in that moment. “Suit yourself,” she said and then stood from the sofa, moving into the filthy kitchen. While it was far too great a task to exhaust herself with, she did take up the bare minimum, rearranging dishes in the sink so that she could see what was available. And although she found no kettle she did find a small pot suitable for boiling water. With several good scourgifying charms she set the pot to rights on the stove top and then began to rummage around in his cupboards, looking for tea. After a thorough scavenge she did manage to find a tin of English Breakfast and although she preferred non-caffeinated at night, it would have to do.

 

Scourgifying one of the mugs she transfigured a spoon into a makeshift infuser, as the task for finding his actual infuser was far too daunting, and filled it generously with the loose leaf tea. With the water nearly boiled she poured the pot into the mug and was quite pleased with herself as she returned to the sofa, steaming cup in hand. There was even a space on which to set it on the coffee table in front of her. “There,” she said aloud for no one’s benefit but her own. “Are you sure you don’t want a cup?”

 

“I’m fine, Miss Granger,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed.

 

“Can you not?” she asked after a moment, letting her tea stand so that it could steep properly. “It seems rather foolish, considering the line of work we’re doing, the proper titles…” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but what she said was no less true for it. It seemed beyond foolish for her to continue referring to her as Miss, though she couldn’t quite place why it bothered her so. Perhaps because the last time he had called her ‘Miss’ she had still been a student in his tutelage, and it reminded her of being his intellectual subordinate. Though she realized, much to her chagrin, that in the arena of sex she was still very much his intellectual subordinate, having limited knowledge and experience on the subject.

 

Severus did not answer her, merely continued to stare off into the empty hearth. This only unnerved her a little. He had never been a man of words, or at least not if he could help it. Even when she’d sought him out in his home their conversation had not been so idle as to be familiar, him divulging very little. Her lips pinched slightly into a frown as she mulled that evening over in her head; so close to once again being satisfied but he’d literally turned her out without a second thought on the matter.

 

“Do you reckon he’ll keep us past midnight?” she asked. “I mean I don’t suppose it matters if he does, it’s not like either one of us really has anything to do in the morning,” she paused and then flushed slightly. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t say that, I rightly have no idea what it is you do when you are not here…stay at Spinner’s End, I imagine—”

 

“Can you not?” he said, mimicking her request from before. “It seems rather foolish for you to continue trying to hold a conversation with someone who clearly does not wish to converse,” he paused and then added with a slight smirk, “Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes in his direction as she leaned forward and picked up her teacup, removing the infuser and banishing it to the kitchen with a forceful flick of her wrist. A bit too forceful for the infuser smashed against the kitchen wall sending a clump of sodden hot tea leaves exploding to the floor. She sighed, though she doubted very much that George would notice upon his return. “Sorry was just trying to get comfortable,” she muttered and then picked up the mug of tea and took a swallow.

 

“Yes, well your incessant chatter makes no one comfortable; in fact it does quite the opposite.”

 

“How can talking make you not comfortable?” she protested.

 

This earned her a well-practiced roll of his eyes. “Miss Granger, please…” he said and then turned his head to face her. “I do not habitually partake in small talk and I’ve no intention of starting now…there is no need to fill every blessed moment of blissful silence with your inane rambling.”

 

She wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or enraged. On one hand she realized that she had sort of been rambling because the silence between them had mounted into a palpable tension, and that made her squirm inside. On the other hand, she was sick of being insulted by him, though she wasn’t quite sure how exactly to handle the dilemma. After a moment of letting her options drift back and forth inside her head, she attempted a new approach. “How long before you think he’ll finish with us and we’ll both find ourselves out of work once more?”

 

Severus gave an audible sigh. “If it’s not prattling its questions…they never end with you, do they, Miss Granger?” he asked, his eyes, for the first time that she noticed, looking slightly weary. “I’ve no idea, we will find out when we find out.”

 

“Doesn’t it worry you that—”

 

“It worries me that George Weasley may never return this evening and I shall be stuck in his flat listening to your never-ending onslaught of questions and unflappable attempt at making conversation.”

 

“There’s no need to be rude,” she paused and then carefully poised her lips to speak. “Severus.”

 

If it caught him off-guard he didn’t let it show, not even for a moment. He held her gaze, watching her, analyzing her, reading her. She returned his stare simply keeping her eyes level, trying not to feel extremely uncomfortable under his scrutiny. It was just like her days back in Potions, only she was completely out of her element in their current predicament. And after just a moment she shied away from their impromptu staring contest, missing entirely the triumphant sneer of victory that crossed his lips before he settled into contentedly gazing into the empty hearth once more.

 

“I’ve brought chips, shakes and bacon butties with rocket and cheese,” said George, sweeping in through the door near the kitchen, a large brown paper bag tucked under one arm, three Styrofoam cups balanced in the other. “Hermione, give me a hand, would you?” he said, kicking the door shut with his foot. She was all too eager to shoot up from the sofa and move over to him. “Now I don’t know where we’re going to—”

 

“I’ve tidied up a bit in the sitting room, the coffee table is clear, we can eat there,” she said with a soft smile.

 

“Thanks,” George said, quickly bringing the bag over after Hermione had taken two of the shakes from his other hand. “Um, and thanks for tidying up, just don’t have much time these days,” he said with a shrug and then sat down on the floor with his back facing the hearth. Unpacking the bag he doled out three containers of hot chips doused in vinegar, and then handed out enormous sandwiches. Hermione, who had been particularly hungry, looked grateful. George wasted no time in tucking into his dinner. “I figured after we eat we can head back down, give the Glow-in-the-Dark Gryffindor a go, and then I’ve got some fantasy panties we can have a play with, and maybe have a look at the paddles if you’re both up for it.”

 

“Paddles?” Hermione said, sounding nervous, feeling that telltale warmth flood her cheeks, knowing full well she was blushing.

 

“Yeah, Fred has paddles with a leather face…but designed— it’s hard to explain, it’ll be easier to show you once we get back down in the workshop.” He stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth and practically swallowed them whole. “No problems with the Hufflepuff Happy, then?”

 

“It broke,” Severus said simply, taking a rather small bite from his sandwich, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. “Upon release,” he added. “I’ve administered a preventative to Miss Granger, and the condom has been disposed of.”

 

George frowned. “Bollocks, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to rework it.”

 

Severus merely shrugged. “Condoms do break, Mr. Weasley. It’s not as if it broke upon my putting it on, or even midway through. Occasionally the force of ejaculate can be too much for the rubber tip of a condom, these things do happen.”

 

Hermione practically choked on the chocolate shake that was mostly way too thick for the straw she was currently sucking on. Always so frigid and reserved, dissecting the incident as if he were filing a report. It made her spine tingle in all the wrong ways. But tried to brush it off, focusing instead on the lovely sandwich before her. It was nice to have pub food, a rare treat but certainly much better than what she’d been living on, though she’d never admit that aloud.

 

George hopped up from the floor and fetched his ledger, once again taking to scribbling notes in it. After a few page flips and a few more scribbles he returned to their makeshift dinner table and proceeded to consume the rest of his dinner with great speed. He took to reading through the ledger, presumably investigating products they had not yet tried, waiting for them to finish. Severus finished first, Hermione only a few chips behind, though she noted that he did not touch his shake.

 

“Alright if you guys are ready, we can head back down,” he said, standing up and moving toward the workshop door. He made no attempt to clear the table and it was more than apparent to Hermione exactly how his sitting room had ended in such disarray in the first place. She stood from the sofa and stared at Severus for a moment.

 

“After you, Miss Granger,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for her to follow George back down into the workshop for their late night testing session.


	5. Fantasy Panties: Spray Line

Sex in total darkness had been a bit more than she’d bargained for. Naturally to see if the Glow-in-the-Dark Gryffindor model of the condom worked properly George had doused the lights. And not only had he doused them but he’d stolen them entirely. She didn’t want to know how he’d convinced Ron to let him borrow the Deluminator, but it certainly had plunged them into abject darkness faster than she could have properly protested. Hermione had banged her backside trying to get up onto the table and the faint glow from the condom was barely there. She found herself closing her eyes when he began to fuck her, the sight of being able to see nothing but a faint green glow sliding in and out of the darkness making her feel disoriented. He was rougher, somehow; the pitch black lack of light in the workshop making him feel different than he had before. Or perhaps she was just confused because her senses were jumbled. Either way it had been less than pleasant. It hadn’t hurt or been uncomfortable, just extremely awkward.

 

When he’d finished inside of her, this time without the condom breaking, she sighed quietly; relieved that it was over. And when George returned the lights to the workshop she sat up abruptly and pulled her robe around her, keeping herself covered as Severus made comments about how piss-poor the glow effect was and how it was otherwise the same as any standard non-lubricated condom. George seemed to drink in every comment with extreme interest, hanging on Severus’ every word as he continued to scribble frantically in the ledger.

 

As George rose from the stool and moved over to the large chest of drawers he began to rummage through them. She found that her eyes had wandered absently over to Severus, who was standing with his back to her, now donned in the terrycloth robe. It was a full moment before she realized she’d been staring and Hermione quickly averted her eyes down into her lap, though he hadn’t noticed as he’d been looking at George. She didn’t have time to dwell on why she’d been staring when George came over to the work table carrying a large circular hatbox. It was white with racy red and purple stripes running all over it and Hermione could already feel her stomach doing flipflops as she tried not to think about the plethora of potential products that could be inside.

 

“Now these…” George said as he carefully wiggled the lid, which seemed to be firmly attached to the box. “There’s a good handful of things in here…all designed for women,” he said with a bit of a shrug, tugging harder until the lid came off completely. “Fred had this brilliant idea that lingerie should be sexy, or maybe not so sexy in some cases…” he said lifting what could only be described as a garish electric yellow flower attached to strings from the box. “But sexy and fun,” he said and then grinned a bit at Hermione.

 

She took a moment to glance into the hat box. There was an assortment of various, for lack of a better word, things, and it seemed a bit much to take in all at once. Things that looked like clothes and various materials, and things that did not in any way shape or form resemble materials or clothes, and then there were smaller boxes and a few cans that appeared to have spray nozzles attached to their tops. Her brow furrowed as she reached into the box and picked up one of the spray cans. “Cloudy?” she said, turning the can around in her hands.

 

George, who had pulled his stool over to where she sat atop the table, was now flipping through the ledger, trying to find a product description that matched the pale blue and white can she held in her hands. “Oh, yes…Cloudy Panties…a part of the Fantasy Panties: Spray Line,” he said.

 

“Fantasy Panties Spray Line?” Both Hermione’s voice and Severus’s voice were once again working in unison.

 

“Says here…simply shake can, and spray on panties,” George frowned re-reading the note in the ledger. “Spray on panties?” For a moment he seemed thoroughly perplexed by the notion but as the idea seemed to settle in his brain a smile grew across his lips. “Oh, Merlin, this has loads of potential…if it works.” Reaching forward he took the can from Hermione’s hand and began to shake it rapidly up and down. “Shrug out of your robe and hop down off the table. Stand with your legs a bit a part, we’re going to give this a go,” he said as he continued to shake the can.

 

Her mind was willfully refusing to cooperate but her body seemed to have heard him when he spoke for she found herself on her feet, shrugging out of her robe as he’d said. She was standing with her backside resting gently against the table but after a moment she stepped forward and spread her legs. Hermione worried the petal of her lower lip between her teeth; there was something unsettling about knickers that came from a spray can. She closed her eyes, a subtle nod in George’s direction to let him know she was ready.

 

Tossing the can to Severus, George leaned back slightly on his stool and then picked up his quill pen. Poised at the ready to begin scratching into the ledger he failed to notice Severus roll his eyes as he caught the well-shaken novelty can. Still in his robes, Severus moved toward Hermione and then adjusted the can in his hand, finger on the nozzle as he brought it close to her thighs. Depressing the nozzle filled the room with the terrible hiss that a spray can often makes and at first the scent of heavy rain seemed to overwhelm them all; Hermione giving way to a slight coughing fit.

 

Meticulous sweeps of his arm whilst holding down the spray nozzle eventually found him standing at her side and bending down to spray between her legs, as if drawing a pair of knickers over her body with the stream of thick white mist that was being emitted. He set the can down and stepped back, gazing at her. At first it appeared as if the can had done little more than coat Hermione’s skin with a filmy white substance that seemed to shine in the workshop light. But after a moment the film began to glisten.

 

Hermione gasped, wriggling a bit in surprise as she felt the wet film suddenly brushing around her skin as if it were moving of its own free will. “What in Merlin’s—” she inhaled sharply as a shiver crept up her spine. It was impossible to describe; the sensation of fluffy yet chilly airy nothingness was sweeping over her skin. Around her legs, curving down over her buttocks and up between her thighs. Her wide eyes gazed down her body and she gasped. No longer was she covered in a filmy white liquid but was indeed sporting what looked like a pair of panties comprised of fluffy opaque white clouds.

 

Severus, who had watched the transformation in silence, was now letting his eyes rake over the way the strange cloud-like substance curved around her figure as if it were fitted for her skin. George, all the while, watched on in fascination, scribbling so fast that he spilled his pot of ink. “How do they feel?” he asked.

 

She was too gob smacked to respond. It still felt as if someone were running a cottony breeze against her privates and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, let alone how to describe it. Hermione held very still not sure if moving in them was an option, her eyes still trying to take in exactly what she was seeing. How could she be wearing panties made of clouds?

 

It was Severus who caused her to shriek; a startled squeak of surprise as he placed his hand against her mound, his palm and fingers passing right through the fluffy whiteness of the clouds. As he pulled his hand back he noticed that there was now a gap between both sides of the cloud. “Purely novel, they would serve absolutely no functional purpose and they don’t feel like anything,” he said. “A chill I suppose, slightly cooler than the room’s air…” Severus trailed off and then moved his hand forward, once again cupping her mound. Although it made her jump, she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out once more. “And easily destroyed,” he added, sweeping his hand back and forth as if brushing them away.

 

The clouds, if they could be called that, blew away from his hands as he shooed them, rendering Hermione’s sex exposed. It was peculiar how the clouds that covered her backside remained. But she hadn’t time to really process it as she heard George giving Severus instructions to spray her once more and to cover her breasts as well. She wasn’t prepared for the chilly blast of white mist that shot forth from the can as he began to once more coat the front of her lower regions, as if reapplying a panty-shaped airbrushed tattoo. Her nipples stiffened instantly as he drew the can up and began to spray her breasts.

 

In just moments Hermione’s lady parts were completely covered by the fluffy white clouds. She felt absurd and terribly exposed despite being hidden. “Erm…”

 

“I want you to walk about a bit, Hermione, just a little back and forth, you don’t have to be on the catwalk for us or anything, I’m just keen to see if they stay in place with regular body movement.”

 

She nodded her head, feeling that breezy chill against her sex and it made her shiver. Hermione tried not to notice Severus’ eyes upon her as she took a tentative step forward. Baby steps, her feet barely apart from one another, at first. But then larger steps, not strides, but average, albeit slow, walking steps, along the length of the work table, over to where George sat and back. “Feels like it’s staying…” she said and then turned curious eyes to her partner.

 

Severus nodded. “You’re leaving a trail of wispy white cloud in your wake from your backside but I don’t see any major gaps.” All the while George was making frenetic notes in the ledger, having righted the pot of ink from the desk, waving one hand at them. “You’ll have to be a bit more verbal, Mr. Weasley, I’ve yet to fully learn the subtle language of hand waving.”

 

It took all Hermione had not to snort at the dry sarcastic quip that leapt from his tongue. Despite the situation she found that his peculiar sense of deadpan humor rather appealed to her, though she kept silent on the matter, waiting for George to interpret his gesture aloud.

 

“Grab her up and sit her on the table,” he said. “I want to see if it all falls away,” he said without looking up.

 

Hermione had mentally prepared herself as she heard George speak so when Severus gripped her hips she didn’t cry out in surprise. His hands were big; though she’d noted that before, and idly in the back of her mind she noted that proportionately they matched his manhood. His palms were warm, or perhaps felt warm because of the chill that the clouds created against her skin, either way the heat sent little jolts up through her body and she did her best not to shudder. “It seems like the clouds have vanished where he’s touched me, but are otherwise still in place.”

 

“Severus, go on and lay her back and give her breasts a play…see if it’s doable for mouth action.”

 

This made Hermione’s blood run hot and cold all at once but there was no time to think on it or prepare for it as she felt him pushing her backward just enough to angle her somewhat, her forearms catching her body instinctively so she was propped up on the table. She forced her eyes closed as he bowed his head inward toward her chest and at once every nerve in her body was standing on end. That queer intimacy that was required of such an act; yet so clinically executed as the delicate strands of his hair brushed through the clouds against her skin, she couldn’t help but quiver.

 

His nose brushed against the top swell of her breast, his face now obscured by the shifting and dissipating clouds. But even without being able to properly see him she felt his lips and his tongue mouthing gently against the taut pearl of her nipple. With his lips at her right breast she all but moaned when she felt his hand brush against her left breast, fingers beginning to tweak her left nipple ever so gently. She was quickly getting lost in the dual sensation of his pleasurable ministrations, her body heating intensely. But as readily as he’d begun was as abruptly as he stopped, pulling both hand and face back from her, leaving her with a pained expression of frustration etched into her features. Hermione bowed her head with haste, not wanting him or George to notice how terribly horny the encounter had once again made her, even more so that he had once again begun to stimulate her only to stop completely.

 

“There isn’t a taste, which I presume to be a good thing, and the clouds, despite being wispy and slightly chilled seem to dissolve the moment they come into contact with my face or hand.” Severus wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling it upward toward her chest, causing her to pitch awkwardly to one side. His fingers guided her hand to touch her own breast and for that instant her body was completely rigid. But as he began to speak he released her hand. “Seems to do the same when she touches herself as well.”

 

“Right…” George hadn’t bothered to look up from the ledger, still furiously penning notes onto the paper. “Can you mange to give her a quick poke?” he asked nonchalantly. “No need to have a full on fuck, I’m just curious if you can stand the sensation— and you can spray some more before you do.”

 

Hermione’s body twitched at the prospect of having a quick poke. Did he seriously mean for Severus Snape to just thrust himself into her for a moment or so as if such a thing were a common casual occurrence? It was one thing to test a condom, as they’d done four times before, but what he was now asking was something entirely different. But her opportunity to protest aloud shattered as she watched Severus open the lapels of his robe, one hand going down to stroke his cock. He was limp, though not entirely, and she noted with a terrified fascination that it only took him a few good rough tugs with his eyes closed to get himself erect.

 

“Scoot forward,” he said, one hand on his cock, the other curling a beckoning finger at her. She shifted her body forward, feeling the clouds swirl all around as she spread her legs. Severus plucked up the spray can and carefully aimed it over her sex, covering her once more with the mist. He waited for the film to become clouds and then he leaned forward. “Merlin…” he hissed, unable to control himself as his cock was met with the chilling but thrilling sensation of clouds whirling around it. He thrust forward into her, finding her entrance without issue, another soft moan dying in the back of his throat as he began to pull himself out, sliding in once more; a gentle rhythmic fuck, each thrust punctuated by a strangled noise.

 

“Well?” George asked, though Severus had not yet stopped fucking her through her cloud knickers.

 

“It’s a mingled sensation,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “The clouds brush out of the way but then cling around….and it feels like tiny fluffy hands blowing air and gently tugging all at once.”

 

It was certainly the most verbal she’d heard him be since they started. And for a moment Hermione wondered if this little experiment would cause him to lose control completely; if he would suddenly take to fucking her with wild abandon and ravish her like a savage man whose carnal needs burned so intensely that he could not control himself. But that fleeting notion was quickly dismissed after a few more thrusts had him pulling out of her entirely and stepping back. For the first time in all her years of having seen the man he seemed unsteady in his gait, his stance wobbling for just a moment as he drew his robe tightly around him.

 

Had she not been so hot and bothered by the brief penetration, she would have smirked. Hermione sat up and then slid down from the table. It took her a moment to retrieve her robe but once she was wrapped in it she shuffled innocently over toward George, posing a rather devious question. “Since these aren’t fitted, per say, do you think I ought to spray a bit on Severus just to see if it covers a man equally as well?” she asked. Before George could counter her question with any sort of logic she continued with a bout of her own. “I mean what with men having slightly different body chemistries and hormones…it would be useful to know if you could easily double your marketable audience with this product.” He seemed to like this idea and nodded his approval. Her mind was playing with mischief, knowing full well that it was a powder keg and in her hand she was about to strike a match. “Severus,” she said, walking over to him, taking up the can from the table.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her and then rolled them. “You cannot mean that you wish to have me cover you once more, Miss Granger,” he said. Any traces of the shock the sensation had put him in had vanished and he seemed once more his stoic, albeit surly, self.

 

It was Hermione’s turn to wear the subtle smirk as she began to shake the can. “George thinks it would be a good idea to give it a test run on you, just to see if he can double his marketable target audience,” she said in a nonchalant tone, feigning complete innocence. She was sure he could see right through it but she didn’t care. After watching him react the way he had to just feeling the cloud like substance around her was enough to make her want to force his hand in the matter. He’d been so reserved and so clinical about every damn step of the process up to that point that witnessing him crumble and crack at the seams had been maddeningly delightful.

 

“Be that as it may, Miss Granger, clouds in my crotch, I shall abstain,” he said and kept his arms crossed over his chest. “Courteously,” he added for good measure and then cast a glance over to George. But if the redhead had any intentions of stopping Hermione from her current trajectory he made no indication and this annoyed Severus above all. After a moment of standing like a statue, refusing to budge, he rolled his eyes and then heaved a rather audible and severely annoyed sigh. “If you must,” he muttered as he slipped out of his robes.

 

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to be so spiteful; even her own amusement in that moment did not seem to calm her nerves that felt on edge as she approached him. Though he wasn’t as raging hard as he had been just moments before, he was by no means flaccid. Hermione felt her fingers tremble as she began to press down on the nozzle, the white mist spraying out in his general direction. The sharp intake of his breath was the only sound aside from the hiss of the can as she moved the can back and forth, slowly covering his erect manhood in the white film.

 

Hermione traced a line around the side of his hip, slowly moving to stand beside him and then behind him, pausing as she drew the line from the other side of his hip; a bit like the connecting strings of a g-string thong. The tiniest of smirks crossed her lips as she drew the can down the delicate line that split his cheeks. She was surprised as she watched his body stiffen, his cheeks clenching firmly as she sprayed between his legs. Curious indeed, but she made no comment. Satisfied with her little experiment she placed the can back on the table and waited to see the clouds form around his privates. As she had expected they’d behaved as they had when he had sprayed them on her; forming puffy white softness in the loosely drawn shape of a man’s g-string thong.

 

“That actually covers a good deal better than I thought it would given that he’s erect.” George’s idle comment stole her attention though she didn’t turn her eyes to face him, far too fascinated by the way the bulge of his manhood pressed against the cloud as if they were cotton fabric rather than wispy ether. “How does it feel?”

 

“As it felt before,” Severus was speaking but his voice was clipped, his teeth clenched shut. “Breezy and chilly.” It was impossible to discern whether or not the tension in his tone was from pleasure or discomfort, but given his previous reaction when he’d began to fuck her through the clouds, Hermione was prone to believe that it was pleasure. Pleasure that he was desperately fighting against. This pleased her a great deal as she chuckled inside her mind.

 

“Anything you’d like me to test, George?” Though the moment she’d said it she wished she hadn’t. No doubt George would have her repeat a similar series of actions, perhaps going so far as to have her use her mouth down there. This notion terrified her. The concept was not unknown to her but in theory only. She had never in her life been given cause to use her mouth for oral sex, the few flimsy movements with her tongue when they had been testing the tongue tinglers aside. She cast nervous eyes at Severus but found that his eyes were closed, the effort of restraining himself effecting him a great deal more than she’d realized.

 

“Um, yeah, I’m curious to see if you think it has a taste or what have you, drop down and just brush your lips through it, see how it goes.”

 

Those words shot through her and chilled her ten times more than the brisk air of the clouds. And they seemed to cause Severus a great deal of consternation as she watched his body twitch. But she was a determined witch, after all they were working. And even if her little experiment meant solely to tease him had backfired a bit in her face, she wasn’t about to let that affect her performance. “Right,” her voice was a whisper as she slowly sank down onto her knees. The floor was hardly comfortable, her knees immediately wishing that she had sought out a cushion of some sort, but the comfort of her knees was the farthest thing from her mind.

 

Hermione slowly leaned her head forward, face to face with his cloud covered erection. At least when she’d worked with the tongue tinglers he had been mostly limp. This was uncharted territory and already she could feel the effect it was having on her body. Aside from making her tremble like a leaf in a storm, which she was failing miserably at hiding, she could feel her thighs sticking together with the damp heat that was now leaking from her womanhood. And she noticed his scent. Despite the airy fresh smell of the clouds there was something wafting into her nostrils that was not at all unpleasant. It was heady and musky and distinctly masculine; impossible to place save for saying that it smelled like him. Him and sex.

 

Closing her eyes, she leaned her lips forward, greeted immediately with the airy chill and wispy breeze of the clouds as she pushed her way through and parted her mouth. Her lips pressed against his erect shaft, just beneath the head, feeling the satiny warmth of his flesh for the first time in its fully aroused state. It had not felt anything like this when she’d tongued him before; and she couldn’t recall if there had been a taste as she’d been too preoccupied with the buzzing sensations in her tongue. But this was some sort of cruel heaven; a slightly salty warm taste that was full of that musky headiness that she had smelled, teasing and tantalizing her to dare and taste more.

 

And she would have had it not been for the firm fingers that were curled tightly around her shoulder. “And?” the voice belonged to Severus, though it sounded coarse; the strain more than evident.

 

Hermione’s lips slowly pulled back from his shaft, inhaling little bits of the clouds as she leaned back entirely and then stood up. “No taste though that chill is quite intense. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not a bad thing, just rather intense,” she said thoughtfully.

 

Severus had swiveled his hips a bit and was swatting at his backside, clouds dissipating into nothingness as he did. And within seconds he was once again wrapped securely in his robe. It made Hermione wonder if all interactions with his erection and her mouth would cause him to lose such control or if had just been the chilled sensation of that product. Curiouser and curiouser indeed. But before she could ponder further on the matter her thoughts were called to attention by the sound of George’s voice.

 

“That’s actually sort of brilliant…can you imagine how much fun that could be for cos play? Or general fantasy play?” he asked, his voice so full of elation one would think he had discovered a cure for Lycanthropy. Red ink was everywhere; the pages of the ledger, the desk upon which he wrote, his hands, his shirt, even little splatters blending with the freckles on his face. “There are three other spray cans— let’s give them a go while we’re at it, yeah?” he said looking hopeful.

 

Though it was getting late, Hermione imagined that it was hardly past ten, they’d broke for dinner a bit early, and she wasn’t the least bit tired after that encounter. And George had said that he’d wanted them to work late, though she wasn’t sure exactly how late he meant, so she didn’t mind. Nodding her head in agreement she peered down into the hat box and plucked up a solid green spray can. “Garden of Eden,” she said turning it over in her hands, reading the tiny gold letters that were printed on the metal.

 

Severus said nothing but remained in his robes, eyeing them both warily as he watched George begin to flip through the ledger once more. It didn’t take him long to find the entry that matched the product she held. Hermione listened attentively as George read out what little was described about the product in Fred’s notes.

 

“Says, Fantasy Panties: Spray Line, Garden of Eden spray panties, shake can well before using and simply spray on panties for your own personal Garden of Eden.” He shrugged his shoulders and then looked at Hermione, who was handing the can to Severus and slipping out of her robe. She draped it across the table and stood naked before him, legs spread slightly. “Alright, let’s see what brother Fred had in mind.”

 

The spray was not as cold as the clouds had been, and it was mostly green with flecks of gold, orange, and pink mingled in. Hermione stood very still as he traced the familiar pattern around her hips, around her buttocks, up between her legs and over her mound. “It doesn’t appear to be doing any— oh!” she cried, feeling a sudden rush of movement against her body. The green spray began to shift and morph, changing at a rather rapid rate. Eyes wide with her breath held she watched in awe as twisting vines, climbing ivy and other ferns began to wend their way around her womanhood. Interspersed amid the green were little colored buds that began to bloom; tropical flowers weaving into the greenery and blossoming fully leaving her downstairs covered in a miniature jungle garden of sorts. “Oh my…” she finally exhaled, twisting her head around trying to stare down at her backside.

 

Severus paced a circle around her, gazing at the peculiar if lush garden that now served as knickers on her person, his fingers caressing the leaves at the side of her hip. “They feel very real,” he said, inhaling deeply. “And smell very floral.”

 

Hermione inhaled as well, noting that she smelled very much like an earthy jungle filled with flowers. Her fingers slid down her body and she touched the petals of a bright pink flower, feeling their delicate silkiness against her hand. “They do feel real,” she murmured, rather surprised at how lovely it looked.

 

“Pretty,” George said, giving her a quick glance before returning to the ledger. “Walk a bit.”

 

She took a few steps forward, the vines and leaves swishing as she did but everything seemed to stay in its place. “Seems to be alright— oh!” she cried, “Look!” Pointing right at the center of her mound she called attention to the large purple and blue butterfly that she hadn’t previously noticed perching on a twisting vine. Its wings were moving very gently, a subtle flutter as she spread her legs slightly.

 

With a visible curiosity in his eyes, Severus approached her and gently laid his fingers against the vine, sweeping upward and catching the butterfly atop his hand. It rested there for a brief second before fluttering away up into the workshop. Just as the beautiful winged bug got above their heads it vanished in a puff of purplish blue smoke. “Interesting,” he mused.

 

“Incredible,” George said. “I wonder if each use produces a butterfly,” he made a note in the ledger. “I think once we test the other two, we can spray this one again, I’m just really curious, can you imagine what that would do to its marketability?”

 

“Indeed, Mr. Weasley,” said Severus. “Though its marketability will be none at all if Miss Granger is unable to untangle herself from this Garden of Eden,” he said, his voice once again controlled. The silky baritone no longer quivered and trembled with the difficulty of being restrained.

 

“Well see if you can take them off of her like regular panties or if you can just sort of pull them apart,” George suggested.

 

Without a word Severus placed both hands on Hermione’s hips just above the vines and leaves, his palms flat against her bare skin. She tried not to think about the delicious jolt of pleasure that shot through her body just at feeling naked flesh on flesh, even if it was just his hands. His very big, warm hands. Forcing herself to keep her eyes open, she stared into his eyes as she began to wriggle his fingers against the ivy leaves as if trying to grasp where the elastic band would have been in a normal pair of panties. Curling his fingers he began to tug at the vines but that only succeeded in making Hermione gasp, dragging some of the flora across her skin in a manner most teasing. “Um…that’s not really getting them off,” she whispered, blushing.

 

“I can see that,” he said plainly and then brought his hands over the front of the panties, tugging at the flowers and vines there. A few of the petals broke off in his hands but otherwise the Garden motif remained in place. “Unless there is some trick switch, you may want to include a machete with each can so that man can hack his way through this jungle.”

 

George snorted and scratched a note in the ledger. “Maybe just your wand for now, I’ll tweak the formula a bit and see if I can’t come up with something better.”

 

“Indeed,” he said and moved to retrieve his wand. Hermione breathed a tiny sigh of relief, both for the fact that she would be able to get out of the flora and that he had not succeeded in rendering her naked. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to hide her body’s reaction to him as he’d plucked apart the various flowers and leaves. She held still and a simple spell had her standing naked once more.

 

“Thanks,” she said, not bothering to put her robe back on as there were still two cans of spray-on panties in the box. He didn’t acknowledge her gratitude but did place his wand on the table in case they would need it for the remaining two spray tests. Hermione plucked out another can, this one a bright purple. “Purple…but no name or writing.”

 

“Hrm,” George was flipping through the pages of the ledger, searching and searching. “Well whatever it is he doesn’t seem to have it here, at least not listed with the other Fantasy Panties: Spray Line. There’s one listed that says “Spray Balloons” but then it’s crossed out. And there are little question marks drawn all around it. So maybe this is spray balloons replacement?”

 

She didn’t like the sound of that. A mystery product with absolutely no description was a dangerous idea, and the fact that it had been Fred’s idea made it that much more so as a Weasley idea was always a dangerous thing. The apprehensive look on face must have amused Severus as he took the can from her hands and began to shake it.

 

“Come, come, Miss Granger, surely your Gryffindor courage isn’t leaving you now?” he said. Although he sounded normal there was the tiniest inkling of smarm in his voice. And she was a bit astonished that he dared to be so bold and cheeky in front of George. Though she supposed for all the attention that the redhead paid he could have been shooting off fireworks from his cock and George still wouldn’t have noticed.

 

His hand was nudging her thigh and without thinking she parted them. He began spraying her mound first, the moment the spray hit her skin the air all around her was filled with the strong odor of grapes. “Oh goodness,” she muttered, her mind seeming to race down the tracks with exactly where this product was headed. “This one is not nearly as cold as the other two, though I don’t think anything was as chilly as those clouds,” she said as Severus continued to spray the purple mist over her backside, being a bit more thorough spraying up between her legs. She heard the can being placed back on the table and she sighed softly, waiting to see what would happen. At first it seemed as if nothing was happening. “Maybe this one is a dud. Or unfinished…or just meant to be purple spray-on panties,” she said gazing down at the way the film clung to her skin.

 

It did seem a bit like a very sheer pair of painted on panties. “I wonder if it’s meant to be edible,” she mused aloud and immediately wished she hadn’t. But before she could retract her statement she was squeaking in surprise as the film began to bubble. “What’s—oh! Oh my!” she cried, feeling little globes erupt all over her body where she had been sprayed. “Oh they look like—”

 

“Grapes,” Severus said. It was true, where there had just a moment before been a thin layer of purple film, there was now thick bunches of luscious juicy purple grapes clinging to her womanhood.

 

“Oh they’re— oh,” she frowned, spreading her legs a bit further apart. “They’re a touch awkward between my…erm…” she gestured and then tried shifting again to close her legs a bit. “Shit!” she cried, startled and surprised as several of the little grapes ruptured as they pressed against one another sending a trail of grape juice rushing down the insides of her thighs.

 

George chuckled. “Well maybe this one shouldn’t be sprayed on as full round panties, but just a top covering…” he said and then shook his head. “Are they edible?”

 

Hermione’s body went rigid, as if she hadn’t been embarrassed enough. Though she supposed he’d already had his tongue between her legs; she figured it couldn’t get much worse. But she was wrong.

 

Severus, he kept his face completely neutral, took a step toward her and then without warning gripped her hips, lifting her up into the air. He deposited her atop the stool so that as she stood her grape covered mound was now nearly level with his mouth. Her eyes were wide as she gazed down at him and her whole body was practically shaking hard enough to pitch her off the stool. “I imagine,” Severus started, one hand firmly pressing against her buttocks, grapes squishing beneath his palm against her flesh causing little rivers of grape juice to run down her backside and the backs of her thigh. “That if they are this will be very lucrative for any lover wishing to pay worship or tribute to their partner.” He inhaled slowly, leaning his head very close to her sex. “They smell natural…almost like grapes used in wine making.”

 

She could feel her legs trembling, seeing the little orbs of purple jiggling back and forth as the shaking motion reverberated up the length of her thigh. Hermione was forced to bite down on her tongue to keep from shrieking as he pressed his lips forward, digging through the grapes, his lips meeting her netherlips for the briefest of moments. Pulling back he tugged free a few of the ripe purple orbs, crushing them between his lips, the slightest trickle of juice dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. She watched in awe as he swallowed them, the tip of his pink tongue swiping out to catch the juice. And then she nearly fainted forward as he licked his lips. “I would say they are edible. A bit juicier than one might expect a grape to be…more like miniature grape pearls filled with grape juice, but palatable just the same.”

 

“Brilliant, that’s just bloody brilliant!” George was enthusiastically writing in the ledger, his eyes never leaving the page and she silently thanked Merlin for that. Hermione gasped but kept herself from crying out when his hands gripped her hips once more and brought her back down to the ground, her eyes now level with his collar bone. “Hermione, did you want to taste one just to see if you have any difference of opinion?”

 

But before she could answer one of the shiny purple orbs was being pressed against her lips, Severus having reached out and plucked it from where it covered her mound. Her eyes were wide as she forced her lips apart, sucking the grape and the tip of his finger and thumb into her mouth, juice erupting against her tongue and his fingertips as she did. It was sweet, almost like wine without the alcohol, and slightly chilly. She could feel the juice dribbling down her lips and quickly made to close them but not before he swiped his finger over her lower lip, catching a bit of the juice. She stood dumbstruck as she watched him suck that very same finger between his own lips, licking the juice from his digit before stepping back from her and then turning to George. “Imagine if you could manage white grapes or green grapes for other flavors as red…or if you prefer, purple, may not suit everyone.”

 

George seemed to be two steps ahead of him. “Or raspberries, maybe even blackberries— just think of the possibilities! That could be a line all its own. Spray-on Fruit Panties,” he grinned and starting listing out fruits that mimicked grapes.

 

Hermione was still shaken by the whole encounter but tried to bring her wits about her. “I imagine a lover could eat them all, or pop them all leaving the woman covered in grape juice, but as I don’t really fancy being covered in grape juice and I’m not sure that Severus should have to eat them all…should I just magic them away?” she asked. They’d already proven that the grapes were easily removable by the little holes in the front of the bunch that covered her mound.

 

“Fine, fine,” George said, once again not lifting his head.

 

Severus turned back to Hermione and drew up his wand. Two spells, one for vanishing the grapes and one to clear away the sticky grape juice, left her clean and naked once more. “There was only one more can of spray-on, I think,” she said and then picked it up out of the box. This can, much like the grape can was not labeled. But it was covered in soft black fur. She frowned. “I’m not sure I want to know…”

 

George, who had glanced up momentarily from his book, stared at the can as if he’d never seen it before, gave a quick shrug and then thumbed through the inky pages. “Oh, yeah, I thought I recalled seeing a note about something like that, right here. Fantasy Panties: Spray Line, Foxy Feline, spelled with three x’s.” The name alone gave Hermione the shudders. “Shake, spray, and meow.” George snorted. “Meow? Oh I’ll bet we’re in for a good one with this one.”

 

Once again Hermione found the can being taken from her hand before she could speak. “Given Miss Granger’s previous exposure to fur this should, as you said, Mr. Weasley, be a good one.” At first Hermione’s cheeks flushed red and the sting of embarrassment registered as a backward insult about how very hairy and natural her pubic mound had been before she’d been denuded by one of the tests. But then her cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red as she realized he was alluding to the polyjuice potion incident in her second year. Over a decade ago and she’d all but put the incident behind her, until he’d referenced it just then. How on earth had he known, of course she imagined in her mind that he had been called into the hospital wing to consult on her unfortunate mishap as it had involved a potion gone wrong, and kept her there for weeks.

 

She tried to force the blush down out of her cheeks. She couldn’t let his sarcastic wit, regardless of how it stung, get to her. It was like a vicious game. Played silently between them each somehow sparring at the other, she had gotten her digs noting how very uncomfortable the whole business with the clouds had made him, and the slight clenching of his buttocks when she’d drawn near with the mist. And now he was retaliating. Hermione pushed the thoughts from her mind; it was absurd. She was no more malicious than he was intentionally playing such a game. This was simply his every day nature or at least the one she remembered quite well from childhood and she had simply been curious.

 

The spray, unlike the others, felt slightly itchy and immediately began to take shape; thick tufts of black fur began to sprout all around where he had sprayed her body. Within moments she was covered the middle of her thighs up to just below her naval in soft, fine, but very thick black fur that was more than long enough to run one’s fingers through. The fur felt far different than the grapes and the garden had, and of course nothing was going to feel quite like the clouds had felt. But there was something strange about it that she couldn’t quite place her finger on.

 

“That is fur,” George said nodding his head. “Wow, just…I mean if that’s your sort of thing, that’s one naughty kitty look,” he said. Apparently fur was not George’s thing. His words made her feel subconscious and the horrifically mortifying memories of being covered in fur from her mishap in second year came flooding back into her mind. She did her best to keep this from showing on her face.

 

The hand that was now cupping her womanhood startled her but only after he had begun to stroke her. “Indeed,” said Severus, idly threading his fingers into the thicket of fur that covered her womanhood. “It appears to be—”

 

“Ow!” she cried as he tugged on a tuft of the fur. “Oh— oh no…no no— no!” her eyes were wide with panic as she ran her own hands down over her backside, tugging at her bum. It felt as if she were pulling her own hair out by the roots. “Oh gods!”

 

Severus, who seemed equally as concerned at the discovery, held her still; one hand on her hip the other still between her legs. The finger that prodded at her entrance felt intrusive and she sobbed slightly when he pulled his hand back, realizing at the same moment that he did that the spray-on panties had actually caused her to grow fur. “It would seem, Mr. Weasley, that this product, however well natured as fused the hair follicles and root beds of Miss Granger’s skin…a flawless binding, might I add, but I imagine such a product would be most distasteful.”

 

George, who had moved up from his stool to get a closer look, ran his fingers through the fur that was on the side of her hip. “Are you kidding? There’s a freak market out there for this…to have it feel this real? Every person who’s ever fantasized about…” it was George’s turn to blush. “Think about it.”

 

“I’d rather not, Mr. Weasley,” said Severus. He frowned gazing at Hermione. “I do hate to be the one to point this out, but it might be worth investigating to see if only adheres on the lower regions.”

 

Hermione tried to swallow her sob. He intended to cover more of her body in the spray-on fur. It was second year all over again. She shook her head. “We should wait and see if this comes off first!” she protested a bit louder than she’d intended, the panic in her voice clear as day. “I mean, I just wouldn’t want to be making things more complicated if this is like the Garden of Eden and doesn’t come off as easily as the clouds and the grapes.”

 

“Miss Granger may be right,” Severus said nodding at her. “Given the nature in which it so readily adhered itself to her skin, I would suggest manual removal rather than risking magic as there’s no telling what might happen.” Hermione listened carefully and although his suggestion only stood to exacerbate the situation, it seemed genuine. And she was certain that he was also right. The last thing she needed was to have some sort of removal spell backfire in her face and end her up with permanent animal fur covering her most private body parts.

 

“Right,” said George. “I’ve got a razor and some lather up in the flat, I think,” he said and nodded heading for the stairs.

 

Hermione suppressed another sob. How on earth was she meant to shave herself in such intimate places? She wouldn’t be able to properly reach the entirety of her bum without assistance and the thought mortified her worse than her experience in second year. The treatment plan then had been to let the fur simply shed away and it had taken weeks. She could carry on with a furry downstairs for weeks; the thought made tears nearly spring to her eyes.

 

“I would suggest, Miss Granger, that if he does return with a razor and lather that you decline.”

 

“But how am I—”

 

Severus held up his hand to silence her. “Using a razor may rid you of the fur, but it will not, however, strip the root from the follicle bed leaving you with the chance that it may grow back. And while it is soft it is very thick and I imagine not something you’d be looking forward to dealing with until you find your body is ready to shed it away.”

 

She hadn’t thought about the fact that a razor wouldn’t actually be all that effective. Even her legs weren’t 100% smooth after shaving, which was why she waxed. “The depilatory!” she cried. “That um— from the kit that turned my hair different colors— that left me smooth as wax.”

 

For a moment Severus considered what she had said and then he nodded. “An astute idea, I do wonder if Mr. Weasley has any remaining.”

 

Hermione hadn’t thought about the fact that the bottle they had used in the test run might be the only that he had on hand. This caused her to frown, her brow wrinkling as she did. George was making his way back down the stairs from his flat, holding a razor in one hand. “Got a blade but no lather I’m afraid, though I can probably pop off to the chemist and magic a can out through the window, I think they’re closed by now—”

 

“Nevermind that, George, do you have any more of the clear liquid from the Fantasy Feathers Comb & Color set? It worked a bit like a depilatory cream, flawless hair removal.”

 

“Oh, Hermione, you’re a genius!” he said and then set the razor blade down on the table behind her, moving over to the large chest of drawers where he’d been storing the various products, tested and untested. “There’s one vial, I don’t know if it’ll be enough but it’s a start, and there are notes on how to make it— in the ledger.” George handed her the little comb and clear vial before flipping through the book. “Yeah, right here, a recipe of sorts, but it looks like it’s easy enough, though I don’t really have any of the ingredients here.

 

Hermione was fiddling with fitting the vial into the comb and didn’t notice Severus moving to glance over George’s shoulder. “You may not, but these are standard potion ingredients, Mr. Weasley. All things that I have in my possession at Spinner’s End.” She didn’t hear him speaking those words as she frantically tugged the novelty comb through the fur below her naval, streaking it down to her lips, repeating stroke after stroke as fast as she could until the little canister was empty. It indeed had done the trick with a good deal of tingling, and from her naval down to her mound she was once again bare, a patch of pale white flesh standing out in stark contrast against the rest of her fur covered skin.

 

“I need more of it,” she said with a slight whimper.

 

“I don’t have any more, Hermione, but Severus says he can make it, that it’s really simple—”

 

“I did not say it was simple, Mr. Weasley, I said that the ingredients were basic and that I had them all in my possession at Spinner’s End.”

 

Hermione looked horrified. Did he mean to leave her there like that while he went home and attempted to cook up more of the solution? George was picking up the lid to the hat box and putting it back in its place. “I guess we can work on the rest of these tomorrow, it is almost midnight anyhow,” he said with a shrug. Having been so caught up in trying to rid herself of the fur she had missed the portion of the conversation where Severus had said they were done testing for the night as he would be needing to take her back to his house at Spinner’s End in an attempt to rectify the problem.

 

So when he began to dress, and then finished dressing and turned to stare at her she was dumbfounded. “Well, Miss Granger, let’s go.”

 

“Go?” she said, her voice squeaking up much higher than usual.

 

“Unless you intend to stay here all night. Get dressed so that we can get going,” Severus crossed his arms over his chest, looking a bit more than impatient. “Unless you’d prefer to apparate to Spinner’s End alone?”


	6. Virginity

Side-along apparation was no better than regular apparation. The feeling of being forced through a tight rubber tube still lingered with her as she steadied herself on the street’s pavement of Spinner’s End. Hermione had been apparating successfully for what felt like ages though for as disoriented as she felt she wasn’t entirely convinced that she hadn’t splinched herself. Severus was already striding toward the door of his home, and she was quick to follow, not wishing to be left out in the street in her current condition.

 

The excessive fur had made it nearly impossible to properly wear her knickers so she’d foregone them entirely. And refusing to struggle with her jeans she’d transfigured them into a denim skirt. But she felt exposed; Hermione had never dared wear a skirt in her life without panties underneath. Once inside his home she followed him into the kitchen; the counter seeming to tease her simply by its existence. Glaring at her, as if a counter were capable of such a thing; the inanimate mockery of knowing that she’d been pleasured to within an inch of release up on its surface. She averted her eyes and watched as he swept into what she presumed was the pantry, surprised to see that it was not in fact a pantry but a descending staircase that led to some sort of cellar.

 

Again she was quick to follow, though she was careful on the stairs, as they were particularly steep. What she saw amazed her. A laboratory, though she should have expected as much given his past; pristinely sterile and meticulously organized. Shelves lined one wall from floor to ceiling and every potions ingredient imaginable was bottled, jarred, pickled, or stored in its proper place. The long wooden work benches were similar to those she had seen in the Potions’ Classroom at Hogwarts and in one corner there was a strange sort of rack that held various types of cauldrons. It was an impressive sight; his own personal laboratory.

 

“Do you intend to stand at the foot of the staircase simply gaping, Miss Granger?” His voice, as smooth and annoyed as ever, startled her and she nodded her head moving with haste over to where he now stood in front of the shelves filled with ingredients. Fred had given her a copy of what was scribbled in the ledger, refusing to let the precious book out of his sight, which she now pulled out of the awkwardly shaped pocket of her transfigured skirt. Handing it to him she tried not to look nervous. It would be simple enough, she imagined, he was a master at brewing, and to be quite honest if Fred had concocted it with the results they’d already experienced, then she knew she’d be fine. But what on earth was she meant to do while he brewed? Standing in awestruck silence seemed even more awkward than the situation she currently found herself in, and she doubted very much that anything could be more awkward than having one’s genitals and backside covered in fur.

 

Hermione was determined not to be timid, though after a long mental debate she decided that silence and cowardice did not equate. And in this instance remaining quiet was most likely best. She would watch him work, unless he instructed her to do otherwise and that was that. He would brew the magical depilatory concoction that Fred had crafted for his novelty line of adult products, she would do her very best to not enlist his help in the use of said concoction, and then she would take her leave. Though this too plagued her mind, it had been quite late when they’d left Diagon Alley, and although the apparation to Spinner’s End hadn’t taken long, she had no idea how long the potion would take to brew. This set her mind burning with panic. Surely he wouldn’t have insisted she follow him back to his home if he knew the potion would take half the night?

 

She tried to calm her frantic mind, though the question of where she would sleep that night still nagged her. It would be unseemly to arrive at The Burrow even if she apparated then and there, knowing that it was well past midnight. And she didn’t want to disturb Harry and Ginny, though in all likelihood they were up with one of their children anyhow. But showing up at the Potter residence completely sober halfway through the night would lead to a lot of questions she knew she wasn’t prepared to answer. She had been at Percy’s flat the two nights previous and didn’t want to trouble him for a third night in a row, and realized that she was otherwise out of options. Settling in her mind that at that hour she would simply have to apparate to a beach in a time zone with daylight so she could rest in public without being chased off by beach patrol, she had not heard him calling her name.

 

“Miss Granger,” he said for the third time, his voice pinched and bordering on annoyed. “I do understand that it is late but surely you cannot be so exhausted that you’ve drifted off to sleep with your eyes open while standing up.”

 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “Sorry,” she murmured and then gazed up at him, trying not to look as embarrassed as she felt.

 

“The potion needs to simmer for an hour,” he stated, again his voice sounding pinched as if he’d already spoken as much. And given the fact that she’d drifted deeply into her own mind, there was a good chance that he had.

 

“Oh,” she said. She had known that naturally it would need time to simmer, though she hadn’t counted on it being a full hour. Hermione was grateful, however, in that moment that it was only an hour. It could have been a lot worse. But judging by the continued glare and his reticent silence she was going to be expected to occupy herself for said hour. “Erm, should I…” she trailed off. There was no good ending to that posed question.

 

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Do what you like, Miss Granger, I’m not about to play babysitter for the next hour, Merlin knows seven years of that was enough.”

 

“Technically it was only six,” she said, unable to help herself before it came out. Hermione waited for the verbal lashing but it didn’t come. Relieved and a bit surprised she stood there, nervously chewing on the bottom of her lip. Surely he didn’t expect her to go wander about at this hour. And she had mentioned previously that she was not currently in possession of a residence of her own. Perhaps he meant for her to go back upstairs, though she was not overly fond of the idea. Wandering up through his house alone did not bode well with her, though given the alternative of remaining in awkward silence in the laboratory as he stood watching the potion, she wasn’t sure which was worse.

 

Hermione tried not to look anxious. But he had not taken his eyes off her. “Did you want something?” she asked.

 

“Do you intend to stand there staring for the hour this needs to simmer?”

 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not really sure what else you expect me to do, Severus.” Using his given name gave her a spark of confidence, though she wasn’t sure to what end. For all the good it did her she could have just as well called him professor.

 

“I don’t personally care what you do, Miss Granger, but surely you can find something better with which to occupy the next hour other than standing here staring.”

 

“You should call me Hermione,” she said, still chewing on her lower lip, her words muffling a bit. “It just sounds peculiar…makes me feel rather…” she shrugged her shoulders, trying not to blush. She didn’t dare say childish aloud, not wishing to agitate him further or earn herself a verbal berating.

 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is a professional courtesy, Miss Granger,” he said, holding up his other hand to silence any protests that she might start in with. “It would be impolite to be so familiar, we are colleagues,” he added. “You may address me in the manner that best suits you but I shall continue addressing you as I have been.”

 

She certainly hadn’t expected his explanation, plain and almost polite as it was. Colleagues. That was one way of looking at it; though she supposed it was no different for witches and wizards that worked in the pornographic industry. She wondered if they went around addressing each other by their surnames as well for the sake of professional courtesy. The notion was laughable at best, but she wasn’t about to challenge him again. She’d mentioned it when they’d been in George’s flat and he’d remained stoically silent on the matter, at least this time he’d given her a reason, though it sounded a bit more like an excuse. Perhaps he had trouble seeing her as something other than a student; it was certainly how she felt whenever he addressed her as Miss Granger, as the only people who still referred to her as such were former professors.

 

Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still standing a few feet away from where he was intently watching the cauldron simmer. She tried not to think about the fur that was covering her lower half. But trying not to think about it only made her think about it more. “Do you think he’ll try to adjust the formula of that product? I’m not particularly keen to try it again,” she said, a hesitancy present in her voice.

 

At first she was certain he was ignoring her as he said nothing. But after a few moments of silence, he spoke. “We were hired as test subjects, Miss Granger. Not but a few nights ago you were petrified that refusing to test a product due to your lack of experience was going to earn you the sack.”

 

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I suppose now that you mention it, I don’t have much of a choice,” she muttered.

 

“Indeed.”

 

Hermione’s lips were poised to speak but she swallowed back the comment that was on her lips and posed him a second question. “Do you reckon you would try it?”

 

Again there was silence, but after a moment his voice found its way to her ear. “If it is requested of me, but I don’t see any particular reason to volunteer. He is attempting to market them as a novelty fashion line for the female customer, and I am not a female.”

 

“The clouds seemed to suit you well enough.” She watched his figure carefully, looking for any signs of bristling or indignation. It had seemed a sore point during their testing when she’d covered him with the chilly spray clouds, watching the way he’d tensed and had begun to lose control. She tried not to dwell on it in her mind, not wishing to become aroused while in her current furry state. His lack of retort continued to surprise her though she supposed it was best to be grateful for small favors.

 

But the silence unnerved her. It wasn’t because she couldn’t stand silence in general, it was because he was there, at least now he was gazing down at the cauldron instead of directly at her. Hermione imagined that only a few moments had passed and if it had taken that long for just a few minutes surely the remainder of the hour would be brutal agony. Taking a cautious step toward where was brewing she gazed over the edge of the cauldron, noting that the liquid seemed to sparkle just slightly. “I didn’t think to ask George for the applicator brush, do you think it will be safe to apply as is?”

 

His eyes did not lift from the cauldron. “There is a refining comb on the supply shelf that I use for preening unicorn tails and things of the like, it should do in this case.”

 

Hermione turned her head and gazed at the shelf before walking over toward it. The comb, not unlike the little plastic comb from George’s workshop, was made of a simple plastic and didn’t look out of the ordinary. She brought it back over to the table and placed it down on the edge. Her face was already flushing at the prospect of having to ask for his assistance and she hadn’t even vocalized the thought.

 

“What is it now, Miss Granger?” he asked sighing with that blatant tone of annoyance present in his voice.

 

How did he keep doing that? Was she really that readable? Hermione bit her lower lip and tried not to sigh. “It’s just that…given the location of this mishap I don’t know if I’ll be able to…” her voice trailed off, the sting of her blush more than furious in her cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach everything sufficiently.”

 

“Pity,” he said and then lifted his gaze from the cauldron and met her eyes.

 

If she hadn’t been blushing before she was certainly scarlet now. She hadn’t wanted to have to ask him straight out, but it appeared she was going to be left with little choice in the matter. “I’m asking for assistance,” she muttered.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “As if I have any other choice in the matter.”

 

A long silence ensured, Hermione constantly fidgeting while he continued to watch the potion as if watching it would make the time pass faster. It was driving her mad and after what she was sure was a lifetime, she posed him another question. “Did the chill from the clouds bother you?”

 

His quick response caught her off guard. “If it had been bothersome, I would have reported as much to Mr. Weasley.”

 

She quirked her lips to the side, pondering his response before formulating her own in the form of another question. “It was pleasurable then?”

 

This time the silence she had expected met her ear. He had certainly responded to the clouds, both when he’d been asked to fuck her through them and again when she’d sprayed him with them. It had been fascinating; watching the cracks in his resolve spread across him in miniscule ripples of what she had hoped was pleasure. And the fact that he had denied being discomforted only confirmed her suspicions. His voice was lower than before, though not harsh as she had expected. “I suppose one might call it that.”

 

It blew her mind just to hear him say it, even if it was a half-hearted admission. Hermione’s mind was working overtime, cranking and processing his exact inflection and intonation before allowing herself to make any further statements or ask any more questions. It was rare that he divulged information and she had been lucky enough to catch him in an obliging mood. She had learned, from her experience in the flat while waiting for George to return, that if he so chose he could be dismally uncooperative and stoically silent. And she was learning to be careful about how she phrased her questions; specifying exactly what she wanted to know and exactly what she was asking of him so as not to end herself in the predicament she found herself in a few nights prior. He was a tricky man but she was slowly learning the rules to the game of interacting with him.

 

“I noticed you…” she trailed off, searching for the right word. “That you tensed when I covered your backside with the cloud spray.” Hermione was certain that she was pushing it too far and that her last statement would result in a berating or utter silence. So she was shocked once more when after a brief pause he spoke.

 

“I imagine, Miss Granger, that you would have done the same if a rather unexpected intrusion of breezy chilled air were assaulting your…backside.” He was deliberate in his reiteration of her word, but kept his eyes from hers. “A natural response,” he added.

 

Hermione frowned at this. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say but what he had said wasn’t it. Her frown creased her forehead, brow furrowed deep in perplexed thought, so much so that it caused him to sigh. She looked up at him with curiosity in her eyes, his own eyes meeting hers for a moment, an unspoken if not completely understood thing passing between them.

 

“If you were expecting me to lament about trauma received to my person in that area of my body thanks to time spent in the Dark Lord’s service, or expected me to quip about with some homophobic rant, then I suspect you have momentarily forgotten to whom you are speaking, Miss Granger,” he said. His words were pointed but not sharp, exact but not biting. And then his eyes returned to the cauldron as if what he had said was the end of the matter and that was that.

 

“No, I don’t expect that I was expecting you to go on about all that,” she said with a slight shrug. Though to be honest she didn’t have the slightest clue as to what she was expecting other than more silence. It had merely been an observation, one that she had reveled in for the moment she’d witnessed it. Him having that momentary lapse in control; the crack in his stone demeanor that revealed a fallible human with bodily urges inside. “I just, it was really just an observation.”

 

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered.

 

“For my observation?”

 

“That this is done,” he said and with a wave of his hand doused the flame from beneath the cauldron.

 

Had it really been an hour? She supposed that with all of the long awkward pauses in their pseudo conversation that 60 minutes could have passed. A wave of relief swept through her when she realized that the potion was finished and in just a few moments she would once again be her normal self, no longer covered with fur. And then a wave of dread swept through her as she quickly realized she would once more be naked, at least from the waist down, in front of him as he assisted her in her task of applying the potion. Hermione shuddered and then bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes to try and keep her face looking neutral.

 

She hadn’t seen him draw out the stool from beneath the laboratory table nor had she seen him pull forth a small step ladder and place it just in front of the stool. “Stand up here and take your— whatever that is…” he said his lips twisting into a slight sneer. He knew it full well to be a skirt even if her transfiguration had been a little sloppy. “Take it off so we can get this over with.”

 

Hermione felt the blood thrumming hard against her temples. From the sound of it he intended to just administer the potion himself, which was only slightly more mortifying than the prospect of him watching her attempt to do it and then have to step in and assist where she couldn’t reach properly. She exhaled her hands trembling as she fiddled with the makeshift skirt and then stepped out of it. The patch of pale creamy skin that had been de-furred stood out in bold contrast against the rest of her, which was still covered in thick black fur. She knew that the fur covered her ass fully and everything between her legs, bits of her thighs and a bit above her mound nearly halfway up to her naval. Biting her lower lip, Hermione stepped up on the little ladder, realizing as she stood that it brought her crotch level with his shoulders as he perched atop the stool.

 

Reaching one slender arm over the table, Severus picked up the comb and dipped it into the cauldron, making sure to coat the surface thoroughly before drawing it near her midriff. “Be sure to note any stinging, more so than when you first used this product, extreme tingling, numbness or other discomfort.” He said his voice once again instructional and clinical. Broad strokes brought the potion-coated comb down through the fur on her lower abdomen, right down to the patch of clear smooth skin.

 

Already she could feel the tingling and little heated sensations as she had felt during the first time she’d had the depilatory applied to her. Gazing down the length of her torso she noted the swath of freshly smoothed skin in the comb’s wake and tried not to smile too much. After he cleared the front of her stomach and began to work on her thighs, Hermione kept her gaze up toward the ceiling, finding it easier to concentrate if she wasn’t looking at his delicate fingers working so close to her womanhood. She tried to think unsavory things, like the way exploding stink bombs always left a goopy green trail on the surface where they exploded.

 

But thinking such thoughts only helped so much before she felt his hands firmly gripping her furless hips. “Turn around,” he said, guiding her as she turned to face away from him, presenting her backside to his face. It didn’t take nearly as long as she had expected, his methodical pattern for clearing the comb through her fur making short work of the project. When she heard him place the comb down on the table she breathed a sigh of relief, but gasped loudly when she felt both of his palms squeezing the supple cheeks of her bum. “Smooth,” he said and trailed his fingers down the globes of her arse and then down between her legs, fingers parting her folds as he moved his hands upward, brushing teasingly for the briefest of moments over her clit. His fingers continued their ascent upward over her mound before he pulled his hands back entirely from her. “It would seem you are as you were before, Miss Granger.”

 

Her heart was racing. Such an intimate touch; the way his hands just glided along her sex, the way his fingers so easily parted her folds; her whole body felt as if it had been set on fire. She was quick to step down and shimmy the skirt back up around her waist, not wanting to spend another second being exposed in his presence. “Thank you,” she mumbled, fastening the garment in place and then stepping back a bit further from him. She noted that he’d banished the cauldron and the plastic comb from sight, and he was currently tucking both the stool and the step ladder back under the work table. When Severus moved toward the staircase she was quick to follow but kept her distance a few steps back as they made their way up into his small kitchen.

 

“See yourself out, Miss Granger,” he said pushing the door to the laboratory closed after she had crossed over the threshold.

 

Hermione stole a glance at the timepiece near the window and felt her heart sink. It was nearly three in the morning and she was dreadfully tired. She didn’t fancy having a lie on a beach regardless of where she would have to apparate to in order to find daylight. And her body was so weary that she was convinced in her attempt to apparate she would splinch herself. It was far too late to call upon anyone for a bed and she loathed the notion of sleeping in the darkened forest at the far end of Spinner’s End. Her inner turmoil must have spread clearly upon her face, if the annoyed sigh that Severus gave was any indication.

 

“Miss Granger—”

 

“I just—”

 

His raised hand silenced her and she swallowed hard. “I know exactly what you intend to say, if you were going to make it easier on either of us you would have just said so when you got here this evening, but I’ll save us both the trouble,” he grumbled. “I have neither spare room nor bed for you at this present time, though you seem to be leaving me little choice in the matter.” With an irritated glance he stalked passed her and into the barely furnished sitting room. A flick of his wrist produced his wand and after a moment he transfigured the lone chair that faced the empty fireplace into a passable couch. Without another word he nodded at her, pointed to the newly transfigured furniture, and then stalked toward the little hallway on the side, disappearing down it. The resounding slam of what she presumed to be his bedroom door made her jump.

 

With a heavy sigh, Hermione plucked her miniscule purse from the pocket of her jumper and then restored it to its proper size. Heavily enchanted to carry just about anything she could imagine, she peaked inside and after a few moments pulled out a pillow, a sheet, and a blanket. Not bothering to put on knickers or take off her bra, she settled down into the lumpy couch with her blanket and sheet atop her and her pillow beneath her head. A flick of her wand lit a low fire in the hearth and she cast a containment spell over it to keep it from burning his house down while she slept. Exhaustion kept her from feeling awkward and slightly frightened, and before she knew it her eyes were closed and she was asleep on Severus Snape’s couch.

 

~*~

 

It was the slight pulsating urge in her bladder that woke her. At first when she opened her eyes she was groggy, and slightly disoriented. The throbbing pain in her neck drew her attention to the fact that she was squished awkwardly on a very lumpy couch. Hermione frowned and yawned, trying to stretch her arms up over her head as the details of the previous night trickled into her mind. One hand slid up beneath her skirt, patting her skin with a soft sigh of relief as she felt only flesh against her fingertips. He had been successful in the removal of all that fur. Her eyes widened slightly as the full gravity of having stayed at Severus Snape’s house set in. Bolting up from the sofa she made herself dizzy and had to hold her head for a moment to keep from toppling back down.

 

The fire had long since snuffed itself out and Hermione glanced around the room half expecting Severus to be standing somewhere along the line of empty bookshelves with his arms crossed over his chest glaring at her. But he was nowhere to be seen. And the more pressing matter of her full bladder came back into focus. Creeping on her tiptoes across the old wooden floorboards of his sitting room Hermione ventured down the tiny hallway. Two doors; side by side, the first one being shut tight and the second one ajar just a sliver. As she passed the first door she paused, ever so carefully pressing her ear against the wood. Much to her surprise the soft sound of snoring echoed from within and she had to press her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

 

Severus Snape was snoring. A very human thing indeed, which made the situation that much stranger. It was a delicate sound; a bit like an overgrown cat purring or perhaps grumbling. She dared not to think on it any longer without fear of bursting into full fits of guffaws and loud laughter. Tiptoeing past his door she pushed the second door inward and sighed in relief. The bathroom, which was flooded with a dim yellow light the moment she flipped up the light switch, seemed equally as bare as the rest of the house. The loo was in the far corner, a sink just beside it. A tiny square mirror rested just above the sink, flat against the wall. And off to the left side was a large shower curtain drawn around what she presumed was the shower.

 

After relieving herself, Hermione washed her hands and gazed into the mirror. She looked like hell and her neck was stiff. The couch had been less than comfortable even with her pillow but there wasn’t much room for complaint as he had been gracious enough to allow her to stay. Her mind wandered for a moment, having rightly no idea what time it was. She closed her eyes, concentrating hard on the image of her purse back on the makeshift couch; drawing up the picture of the time piece she kept inside it. Wordless magic had never been her forte but she had managed with it from time to time. Basic spells, like the one she was attempting now, was as far as she really gotten when it came to staying silent. But with just a bit more focus the time piece was soon hovering in front of her eyes and she smiled. Her smile quickly shifted to a frown as she noted that it was nearly a quarter till one in the afternoon.

 

Banishing the time piece back to her bag she sighed and then glanced nervously around the little bathroom. Not one single towel in sight other than the small hand cloth which she’d used to dry her hands. A drying charm would have to do. Hermione crept over to the bathroom door and pushed it shut, only to discover that the latch was broken and the door drifted inward a sliver. She paid it no mind as she turned back to the enormous shower curtain and slowly drew it back, surprised to see a large bathtub resting behind it. She had expected a shower, but this was heaven. An actual bathtub, though she noted there was a showerhead affixed to the wall just above it, with deep sloping walls and a drain plug and everything.

 

Her excitement got the better of her and she didn’t even care that there wouldn’t be bubbles. To soak in an actual bathtub sounded brilliant. When she’d had her flat there had only been a shower, far too small for a proper bath even if she had transfigured the walls a bit and plugged up the drain. She had never dared to take a bath at The Burrow; for fear that Molly would find out that she had lost her flat. Hermione closed her eyes and grinned, the last time she’d had the pleasure of taking an actual bath had probably been sixth year when she’d taken one in the Prefect’s Bathroom. In retrospect she wished she had used that bathroom a lot more.

 

A little notched shelf was carved into the wall on which the bathtub rested and she noted the lone bar of soap that rested there. She supposed if she’d ever thought on Severus Snape’s bathing habits she shouldn’t have been surprised. But it didn’t matter, bubbles or no, she was having a bath. Her hands trembled as she fiddled with the tap, getting the temperature pleasantly hot with little tendrils of steam rising up from the faucet. For a moment she was afraid that the sound of the gushing water now filling the deep tub would wake him, and perhaps even spark him to berate her for doing more in his house than she had been bid welcome to do, but the temptation of a bath was overwhelming and she decided she’d deal with that if it woke him.

 

It only took a moment to shed her skirt, jumper, and bar. She folded them neatly into a tiny pile and tucked them up under the tub near the backside away from the door. Slipping into the heated water she eased her weary body down the sloping wall until she was submerged completely up to her neck. She didn’t even care that she didn’t have a bath pillow, the water felt so good. Hermione was startled when the shower curtain slowly began to close around the bathtub, but quickly realized it was some sort of privacy enchantment. The heat of the water felt delicious against her skin; seeping into her bones and easing all of the aches, particularly the one in her neck. For a moment she was in heaven. All her thoughts of being a vagrant with no proper home drifted away from her, even the ridiculous job she’d taken as a sex-toy tester seemed to slip away from her as she closed her eyes and relaxed into the bath.

 

She didn’t keep her eyes closed for long; too afraid she would fall asleep in the bath. Hermione gazed at the back of the shower curtain, which was rather plain. With her eyes half lidded she let her thoughts wander. Despite being black listed by the Ministry and its subsidiaries, which basically included every available legitimate position anywhere within wizarding London, she was convinced she would find something. Had she not stumbled across George’s advertisement she may have been working in muggle London in a café. Which she wasn’t sure would have done her any good, a café girl wouldn’t be able to rent a muggle flat even with a good confundus charm. There were things that even magic couldn’t fix, her current predicament being one of them.

 

If she’d been told six months ago, after she’d been given the sack from her job that she would be scrounging about for places to stay and taking up a job testing sexual products with one Severus Snape she would have most likely laughed her head off. Only the reality of it wasn’t as funny now as it would have seemed then. She tried not to let her mind dwell on him. Severus Snape; such a strange man, certainly the last person anyone would think to choose for sexual experimentation, and yet in his own way he was the perfect candidate. He didn’t seem to have a problem with his arousal or pleasurable feelings getting in the way of providing accurate and useful feedback on the products. It unnerved her thinking about how he’d been able to fuck her without so much as a grunt, up until the cloud incident. At first she’d thought it was some sort of mind game, a mockery at her expense, and then she’d thought perhaps he suffered nerve damage and sensation loss from enduring the Cruciatus curse. But when it came down to it she realized that it was most likely just his very reserved nature that kept him in such strict control.

 

Hermione thought about the way he had handled her the night she’d come to him practically begging him to provide her first experience with oral sex. It had been humiliating, but a part of her couldn’t deny that she had wanted it. There was something deeply naughty and terribly wanton about having the man between her legs, his sharp acerbic tongue softened and heated as it had licked at her most sensitive place, the heat of his breath having sent shivers up her spine. Thinking about it made her body warm beneath the surface of the heated water and she smiled dreamily. It had been an intense experience even if he hadn’t allowed her to finish. He’d been playing a game with her that night, though she hadn’t realized it until it was too late. Teasing her knowing that she would get worked up in a frenzy, after all who wouldn’t have given the skill he utilized?

 

She found her thoughts wandering between that incident and the roguish way he’d grabbed her and kissed her. It had been a shock; the way his tongue had invaded her mouth, rough and passionate like some knave from those trashy bodice-ripping historical romance books Ginny was always reading. There had been heat in his kiss and when he’d pulled back she could have sworn his black eyes were smoldering with lust and desire. Or perhaps she had just wanted to see lust and desire burning in the blackness of his eyes; he had practically mocked her telling her he’d only kissed her because he thought she was so pathetic as to have never been kissed previously. Of course she didn’t dare correct him when he’d made that accusation, she had been kissed. Just never like that. While she wasn’t completely inexperienced, as most of her fumbling had been with Ron, and a few clumsy and sloppy kisses with Viktor Krum; she had never felt something so raw and passionate as she had when he’d kissed her.

 

Thoughts asunder and eyes lazily dazing off into the back of the shower curtain she shrieked as it was pulled back. His naked body greeted her eyes for a brief moment; a growl of surprise echoing from his lips meeting her ears. Hermione was frantically trying to cover her body in the bath as he yanked the curtain closed, two of the rings holding it in place tearing in the process.

 

“What in the hell are you doing in there?” He sounded flabbergasted and more startled than angry.

 

Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She could feel it thundering hard against her ribcage, threatening to tear out of her chest. “Having a bath,” she squeaked, her voice small and frightened.

 

There was a long pause from the other side of the drawn curtain and she swore that she thought she heard him sigh. “Anyone with eyes can see that, Miss Granger,” he muttered, his voice once more clipped and laced with sarcasm. “Would you care to enlighten me as to why you have taken up in my bath? Or shall I stand here guessing as I wait ever so patiently for you to vacate the tub so that I can go about my morning ablutions?”

 

She couldn’t shake the image of his naked body standing just over her from her mind. It was absurd as she’d seen him naked and been more than intimate with his body in the workshop, but there was something mortifyingly embarrassing about seeing him then. And worse, knowing that he had seen her, lazing about in the clear water of the bath, equally as naked. Hermione blinked several times trying to formulate an answer. “You were sleeping,” she whispered quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you to ask…I had thought I’d be gone before you woke.” She wasn’t sure how passable of an answer it would prove to be, but it was the truth.

 

Again another almost inaudible sigh and then she heard him speak. “Do you intend to finish up sometime this afternoon, Miss Granger?” It was said with annoyance and also a sound that indicated fatigue; as if he’d been too worn down to berate her properly. Which made little sense as he’d slept a good while. But she wasn’t about to question it, after all she was in the wrong.

 

“Erm, yes, I’m just about finished,” she said, feeling the blush fill her cheeks. She didn’t understand why she was blushing. She was now well hidden by the shower curtain and although she presumed that he was standing just on the other side she knew that he couldn’t see through it. Hermione stood up, water sloshing and dripping down her body as she did. She bent over and pulled the plug from the drain; water beginning to swirl down it as the tub emptied. And then she froze. She hadn’t found a towel in his bathroom and had initially just intended to use a drying charm. Her clean clothes would be in her bag which were still out on the makeshift couch and it would completely defeat the purpose of having bathed only to slip back into dirty clothes. “You wouldn’t happen to have a towel, would you?” her voice was timid, and she could hear it trembling when she spoke.

 

A long silence followed her question and then his hand appeared around the side of the shower curtain, a thick white towel clutched in his fingers. She reached for it, being careful not to brush his fingers as she took the towel and quickly wrapped it around her body. It was just enough to cover her modestly from the middle of her thigh up over her breasts and all the way around her body. That was a relief as she tucked it tightly under her arm and then pulled the shower curtain back. She noted he was standing with his back to the tub, a brown towel wrapped around his waist.

 

Hermione stepped up over the tub, nearly slipping with her wet foot on the tiled floor. She muttered a drying charm for her feet and legs to keep from falling and making an already awkward situation worse. She picked up her clothes and clutched them close to her chest. She would have to move around him to get to the door, and she could feel her body heating in embarrassment as she did. “Sorry,” she muttered and then moved around him toward the door. She could feel his eyes on her; whether he was staring intentionally or not it was driving her crazy.

 

Turning her head back over her shoulder she met his eyes, feeling the blush in her cheeks. “I hadn’t meant too—”

 

“Just go about your business, Miss Granger,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m certain this won’t be the last I see of your body today.” Without another word he stepped up into the now empty bath, dropping his towel as he pulled the shower curtain shut, leaving Hermione blushing sheepishly in the doorway of his bathroom.

 

By the time she had properly dressed herself and quickly disapparated away from Spinner’s End she realized it was only a few hours before she would need to be back in Diagon Alley headed for George’s workshop. She tried not to worry over what insane products would be tested that evening, and hoped that it would not result in another late night. Though she didn’t mind the late night working, it was worrying about finding a place to stay that kept her from wanting to do it. Her stomach was turning somersaults by the time she’d finally decided to pop into the Burrow and pay Molly a visit. It was mostly for lunch, the Weasley Matriarch did make the most delicious sandwiches and always had some sort of filling dessert lying about.

 

Their idle chitchat never wandered farther than how everyone was doing. It was conversations like that which made Hermione thankful that Molly had seven children, thus giving her an endless supply of people to inquire about. They didn’t talk about Ron, other than for Molly to say that he was doing well, and she’d even given up on telling Hermione that he missed her. It was nearly six o’clock when she realized that time had escaped her once again and that she’d be keeping George and Severus waiting if she stayed and chatted much longer. Leaving The Burrow was always much more difficult than arriving, Molly constantly pestering her to drop around more often, to stay a night or two, reminding her she was always welcome. It turned Hermione’s stomach to think on it.

 

She arrived in Diagon Alley just a few moments before six and was startled to see that she’d apparated just near Severus, who appeared to have also just apparated. She didn’t dare smile at him as he caught sight of her. But she noted with curiosity that he did nod in her general direction; an acknowledgment of sorts as he headed toward the joke shop. Her immediate instinct was to walk quickly and catch up with him, but she thought better of it. How on earth would it look to see the two of them entering the Weasley joke shop after hours together? Though she supposed no one in the alley would rightly care or even take notice, it bothered her just the same. It wasn’t as if they were somehow involved, though it made her blush to think about what they would be getting up to once they got upstairs.

 

Once he was inside the shop she made her way to the door and slipped in as well, following him up the staircase to the second floor and then another staircase halfway up to the workshop door. She saw George busy at work on the other side of the workshop, hands elbow deep in a sticky purple mass that she silently prayed had nothing to do with whatever they were testing that evening.

 

“I’ll be there just a sec,” he called, a rather rude noise emitting from the purple goop as he pulled his hands back. “Just tinkering with a new whoopee cushion idea, go ahead and get into your robes and we’ll get started,” he called and then turned his head to look over at them. “Hermione, did you— are you all set to work tonight?”

 

She blushed. He was referencing the incident with the spray on fur. “Oh, yes, I’m fine George, all cleared up,” she added and then moved over to the hooks that had been designated for their clothes. Severus was already undoing the row of buttons on his frock coat, slipping out of it and hanging it on the hook. She never understood why he kept himself done up in so many layers, just knowing that he would have to come and undo them all every evening. She had been making the conscious effort to wear more simple clothing, bra and panties and just a jumper and a skirt. Within moments they had both undressed and were wrapped in the terrycloth fabric of the robes.

 

Hermione took her usual place, sitting up on the edge of the work table, with Severus standing just beside her, waiting for George to join them. When he did he looked tired as if it had taken all of his energy to grapple with the purple goop at the far side of the workshop. But he gave them a smile and pulled up his stool, flipping open the ledger. “Glad to hear you’re back in commission,” George smiled. “And while I must say I’m sure it was unpleasant, because you didn’t know it was coming and all, the marketability of that furry spray-can is going to make us very rich,” he said.

 

Her brow furrowed. “Us?”

 

George looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, I suppose I didn’t really have a chance to discuss that with you since we spent so long arguing about whether or not you were the right girl for the job.” This only made Hermione frown but she listened as George continued to speak, completely oblivious to her reaction. “I had discussed with Severus when he responded to the ad that in addition to the thirty galleons for every night of testing that you’re each entitled to 10% of the residual profits once I launch the line…wouldn’t be able to launch it without you so it only seemed fair…plus the shop still gets an 80% profit and with any luck they’ll be selling really well…I’ll be the only market for this particular type of product that doesn’t involve going outside of the wizarding community.”

 

This was a startling factor that she had not considered. Being entitled to residual profits might in fact turn out to be lucrative, and just hearing it made a great deal of burden ease up from her shoulders. “Well, thank you, George,” she said trying not to seem too excited, lest she let on to how tragically destitute her situation truly had become.

 

“Right,” George turned his attention to Severus after a moment. “I think, however, that in order to properly market that spray fur it’s going to need to be sold with a spray bottle of the depilatory…of course having someone who is proficient at brewing it…”

 

Severus stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “For a price it can be done, brewing takes times and ingredients, Mr. Weasley.”

 

George shrugged with a lopsided grin on his lips. “We’ll discuss a rate when it’s closer to being launched, but I think we can make it work.” He stood and retrieved the enormous hat box from atop the chest of drawers. Seeing it made Hermione’s stomach flutter, she prayed silently that there were no more awkward spray cans to contend with. When he set it down on the work table beside her and opened the lid she breathed a tiny sigh of relieve not seeing a single can inside. “I tried to sort through more of this last night. There are two that I am really keen to try for sure, and providing they don’t give us any trouble we can work through the rest of what’s in here, most of it is just lingerie, though some of it has a trick or two charmed in.”

 

Hermione nodded at the two intricately patterned boxes inside the bigger box. “I take it those are the two?” She picked up one that was covered in various flowers all etched into the box.

 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one to start with,” he said and carefully took the box from her. Plucking back the lid he pulled a little folded slip of instructions from inside. “De-Flower Me,” he read with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Oh, George, you can’t be serious.” She could feel her body heating with embarrassment. “And besides…” she trailed off. Even if she had been a virgin coming into the project, she certainly wasn’t after testing the series of condoms.

 

George chuckled. “That’s the genius of my brother, may his soul be haunting someplace splendid,” he said and made a mocking cross-like gesture over his body. “This particular kit is good for actual virgins and those who wish to…relive their deflowering.”

 

As George read over the instructions Hermione carefully reached into the smaller box and pulled out what looked like a flower attached to elastic bands. She frowned, as the center of the flower appeared to be a hollow ring, petals outlining the edge. It looked like a Daisy with ten white silky petals all around the center. Accompanying the peculiar flower was a slender rod that looked a little like a flower stem sans leaves, and a little bottle of pink fluid. The tip of the wand was slightly bulbous but not very large, just enough to be dipped into the little bottle. She shook her head. “This doesn’t make any sense, George.”

 

“For virgins,” he began. “Available in Daisy, Zinnia, Rose, and Carnation,” he glanced down from the instructions and into the box, seeing that it was empty. “Looks like we just have the Daisy,” he nodded at the flower that Hermione held in her hand. “Lay your lover on her back and carefully affix the elastic bands around her thighs, bringing the center of the flower just over her clitoris. The enchantment will adhere the central ring around her clit—” George’s red eyebrows shot high up onto his forehead and then he snorted. “Oh wow,” he said and then grinned. “Pluck away until you’re ready to deflower…”

 

Severus, who had remained very quite as George had read the instructions aloud, unfolded his arms from his chest and gazed at George. “And if our budding flower has already been tainted by nature?” he asked. The way he phrased the question made Hermione shudder. It made her sound dirty.

 

“For virgins who aren’t virgins,” George read from the paper. “Simply dip the stem in this convenient pot of revirginizing solution, gently insert the wand into your lover’s vagina, swivel a full three rotations clockwise and pull the wand back. Apply the flower head of your choice and begin plucking until you’re ready to deflower.”

 

Hermione’s eyes were wide but she found herself completely speechless. Would the little pink bottle create a new hymen inside of her? Or simulate the sensation of one? And she could not imagine how having flower petals plucked from around her clit would affect losing one’s virginity let alone assist with it. If there was some divine novel effect to the process she wasn’t seeing it. But already she was sliding down from the table hearing George’s command to get her robe off and get started. It only took her a moment to shed the robe before she was laying on her back, the robe under her head like a pillow, her eyes gazing down her body as both George and Severus stood between her legs, which had been spread with her knees tented up.

 

“I think,” George said, handing the Daisy to Severus, “See the diagram shows it sliding up her legs like this,” he said pointing to the picture. Severus nodded and then carefully lifted her left foot, sliding the elastic loop around it, and then repeating the gesture with her right foot. “Right, and then you pull it up until the flower is just there,” said George, not watching as Severus slowly tugged the elastic up her legs until the bands were nestled around the joints of her thighs.

 

“The flower center should be just over her clitoris?” he asked, not taking his eyes from Hermione’s silky smooth sex as George reread the instructions. His hands were delicate as they gently pushed her labia apart, exposing the little hooded nerve bundle. One hand adjusted the flower until the large center ring was hovering just over her clit, and then Hermione whimpered, her whole body jerking as it felt like something had clamped down around her clit for a brief moment.

 

“What the hell was that?” she cried, feeling a jolt of sudden pleasure shooting up through her, making her heart race.

 

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” George cried looking at the way the flower was now situated over her womanhood, petals falling upward on her mound and downward over her lips. The center of the flower was now the delicate bud of Hermione’s clit. “That’s bloody brilliant!” George reached across Hermione’s body and picked up the wand and little pink jar. “Here,” he said handing it to Severus.

 

Hermione tried to watch as best she could, propping herself up on her elbows as Severus dipped the bulbous end of the wand into the little jar. It felt like a glob of warm lubricant being pushed between her folds and then inside of her, a bit awkward almost like a gynecologic examination and she tried to relax as she felt him begin to rotate the rod. After a moment he pulled it out and she frowned. “Am I supposed to feel any different?” she asked.

 

George shrugged. “I’ve no idea, but I suppose we’ll find out,” he said. “Severus, have a play with the petals, this looks like the standard edition according to his notes in the ledger, it would have been nice if he’d included the other flower heads, though I suppose maybe he didn’t get them finished…” he rambled on for a moment. “Anyway, just…I don’t know the first thing about deflowering women…of course I’m not saying you do,” he added hastily. “But have a play with the petals and then well…we’ll see if it holds up to its name and you can take her renewed virginity.”

 

She swallowed hard; his words making her shudder just the slightest. The thought that Severus Snape, of all people, would suddenly be taking her virginity was difficult to wrap her mind around. Even more so was the fact that she’d lost her virginity some time ago to Ronald Weasley. The two were hardly comparable; the fumbling in the tent that night in the woods after they’d welcomed Ron back and Harry had gone out to think. Versus the way she had felt Severus touch her, everything about him screaming skill and grace and power and passion. The notion of him plowing into her womanhood, simulated like it was the first time made every nerve in her body tense. And then she groaned, unable to help herself.

 

Severus had tugged on one of the petals of the little flower ring. As he pulled, the center of the flower contracted around her clit causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot up through her. Hermione’s hips bucked upward, her toes curling slightly as the pulsing pleasure radiated through her clit. “Indeed,” he said, idly tugging at the petal, short gentle pulls and then a slower longer pull, each motion of the petal seeming to affect her clitoris directly. It was maddening and Hermione was barely in control feeling such sudden and unpredictable jolts of pleasure spiraling upward through her. And then she shrieked, completely in the throes of an intense sensation as her clit was hit with something much more powerful than a little thrumming and squeezing.

 

“It would seem,” Severus began, his voice low and even as he let a single white daisy petal fall from between his fingers. “That you can tease the petals, sending less intense sensations of pleasure directly to the clitoris, but plucking a petal sends a much more intense sensation.” His fingers took up a second petal and tugged it roughly, snapping it off. Another surge of pleasure burst upward through her clit and into her body; the shrill cry of uncontrollable pleasure leaving her lips before she could stop it.

 

Already she could feel her body warming to the pleasurable teasing going on between her thighs; the slick dampness beginning to seep from inside of her just against her netherlips. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to calm her body, trying to fight the sensations as she’d so often witnessed him do. But it was no use; fighting off the little waves and sparks of pleasure was practically impossible. She’d even given up leaning up on her elbows, the strain it stretched through her body too much on top of all the little zings and zaps of pleasure. She was flat on the table once more, legs falling to either side with his long intricate fingers now tugging and teasing at a third petal. As he snapped it off she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. The mumbled moan that escaped her lips sounded even more lewd than her shrill shriek of ecstasy from moments before.

 

If he was enjoying himself it was impossible to tell. If he were intent on driving her mad, she couldn’t say. When she did open her eyes to gaze at him he seemed determinately focused, staring at the petals of the flower, what was left of them. She gasped as he pulled another petal near its snapping point before letting it go. And then without warning he snapped off three more petals in rapid succession. Each snap of the petal left her clit aching for more; the quick flicks of intense pleasure they provided bringing her dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm, but not quite enough to push her over. She was certain he could feel her arousal leaking down between her lips, as slick as she was it was tempting to rub her thighs together to try and provide that friction she craved.

 

Another snap and another, each one now punctuated with a shuddering moan from Hermione. She was indeed close; worked up and thoroughly drenched by her arousal, hips begging up off the table in need of contact, something to grind against. It didn’t matter that she’d become a complete harlot possessed by need in that moment, or that George Weasley was sitting nearby recording her every reaction in his damnable ledger. It didn’t even matter that Severus Snape, by way of a novelty product, was the one bringing her this intense ecstasy, only that she needed more of it. Faintly in the background, as if they were both so far away, she heard them speaking. George saying something about fingers.

 

And then she felt them; long, slender fingers. His fingers, those fingers that had touched her, that had gripped at her hips; two of them prodding inside of her, filling her. She hadn’t recalled his fingers being so filling but then again in the moment she was having trouble remembering if he’d ever properly fingered her. Hermione whimpered feeling a pressure inside of her, his fingers meeting some sort of resistance as they pressed up into her, slowly pulling back and then out of her all together. Her eyes were out of focus for a moment before she drew her attention to him, slipping out of his robe. He was hard; she hadn’t really thought about how or when that would have happened.

 

It seemed to happen so quickly, one moment she was splayed back on the table, the next she was drawn forward to the edge of it, her legs wrapping around his hips and the throbbing tip of his cock at her slick entrance. She could feel him slowly pushing into her; filling her more tightly than she’d remembered, no doubt a side-effect of the revirginizing solution. It was almost painful, feeling him so fully. And then she felt him stop; the pressure that had been building when he’d pressed a bit further into her ceasing for a moment. “Do I really…” she drew in a steadying breath, trying to compose herself. “I can feel it…”

 

Severus nodded, and she noted for the first time that he looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable. There was a microscopic bead of sweat on his brow that trickled down and back along his temple before disappearing into his hairline. And she couldn’t help but wonder if he were struggling to maintain his composure of if the notion of taking her virginity, however simulated, was truly making him uneasy. She could feel him buried inside of her, not fully; but pressing against the newly existing hymen inside of her. Hermione reached her hand up as best she could, pulling herself up and back, careful not to force him into her further as sat up and wrapped her arms around his back.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her but she pressed the palms of her hands against his bare shoulder blades. “If you do it like this…and have me up against something, the wall, the back of the door…” she was panting just slightly, still intensely aroused. She wasn’t about to admit that Ginny had told her that breaking your hymen in the upright position hurt less. She couldn’t say that it had been painless when Ron had been fumbling and bumbling in the darkness of the tent, but that was the farthest thing from her mind as she leaned her naked body in against his chest. The heat of his body sent little tendrils of pleasure pulsing through her skin and she shivered in anticipation.

 

She couldn’t register her surprise as he obliged her, moving over to the wall and pressing her back against it. Positioning his cock again he pushed upward, meeting that barrier of resistance and she moaned; pleasure bordering on pain as he stretched her. Hermione buried her face against his neck, fingers gripping his shoulders as she felt him pulling back. And then he was thrusting upward, pushing past her rejuvenated virginal barrier. She sobbed, the sound muffled against his skin as she felt the tear inside of her, mingling with the deep pleasure of being filled so fully. It made her head spin; pain and pleasure mingling together, the burst of heat inside of her making her shudder and quake against him.

 

He began to thrust himself in and out of her, the friction of his cock invading the sodden folds of her womanhood, in and out, the firmness of his mound grinding against her clit; it made her peak and she bit her lip to stifle her cry. Hermione’s body was quaking uncontrollably, her back pressed against the wall, her breasts pressed into his chest. She felt the wave of pleasure course through her making her toes curl as she panted for breath. And then she felt her legs falling slack from around his hips, her trembling knees nearly buckling as her feet felt solid ground. But he held her up; the weight of his body keeping her upright as he pulled her head up from his neck.

 

She was met with an intense gaze and was still trying to catch her breath when he tilted her chin up as if staring deep down into her soul. “Are you alright, Miss Granger?” he asked, his voice low.

 

Hermione blinked, feeling for the first time the little pricks of tears in the corners of her eyes. Despite the peculiar sensations of pleasurable pain her body had responded with little tears. “I’m fine,” she panted and then bowed her head trying to blink away the rest of them. “Yes, I’m alright,” she added and then raised her head to look at him once more. She hadn’t seen him summon her robe and his own, and was startled when he took a step back from her, leaving her leaning against the wall, to hand her the garment. “Thank you,” she muttered and took it with a trembling hand, quickly hiding her naked body within its folds.

 

He slipped back into his robe, hiding his erection from sight, though the bulge at the front of his robe was still noticeable. He turned to George, who had been scribbling frantically in the ledger. “That seems like it was a real success,” he said and then lifted his head to look at both of them. “Hermione how did it feel?”

 

“Strange,” she said, not knowing how else to describe it. “There was pleasure and pain, nothing excruciating, but it felt like…well like being torn into for the first time,” she said and squeezed her thighs together, trying to chase away all of the amazing and unfamiliar sensations she’d just been exposed to. “Though the stimulation with the flower petals beforehand, that helped.” She paused thoughtfully and then added. “I think for any actual virgin it will help…something to ease the pain, getting her all worked up before, or even for a recently renewed virgin,” she felt the slightest hint of a blush when she said this. “It keeps it from being awkward and miserable.”

 

“Right!” George said, beaming a smile that left him looking pleased as punch. “Severus, did it feel…” he trailed off. “I guess I should have asked if you’d ever popped a cherry before…” he shrugged his shoulders. “Assuming you have, was it the same?”

 

Severus took a minute to respond. He didn’t look lost in thought but his dark eyes seemed to be swirling with a plethora of unreadable emotions. Hermione found this curious but was not about to ask. “It felt as if she were a virgin, Mr. Weasley.” And it was all he said on the matter. She tried not to dwell on his lack of commentary, again wondering if it had made him uncomfortable for other reasons. Though given his comment the previous night about how he wouldn’t be going on about his time in the service of the Dark Lord or other such things, she doubted very much if she would ever find out.

 

“You didn’t finish with her, did you? I mean, no matter I’ve still got the Lustipops, but if you didn’t we can have a go with the D2.”

 

“D2?” Hermione asked with a slight frown.

 

George stood from his stool and moved over to the hatbox, pulling out a bright red square box. “The D2,” he said as he took off the lid and pulled out what looked like a rather strange thong made of silky black material. “Double penetration assistance thong, or as I like to call it, the D2…” he handed the garment to Severus. “It’s brilliant, with a shifting extra sleeve,” he tugged on the thong as Severus held it to show the hole through which Severus’s cock would sit, beneath it a latex like sleeve not dissimilar to a condom. “But watch,” he said and then tugged the sleeve upward, sliding it to trade positions with the hole. “So you can have your choice of where you stick it and what goes where.”

 

Hermione felt extremely nervous watching as Severus examined the garment. She had never experienced double penetration before, of any variety. She had never had any sort of sexual encounter that involved her backdoor. She could feel her body tensing just at the thought of it. But she tried to appear calm, despite feeling her spine go rigid as she watched George reach into the box and pull out a malleable phallus. “Slip it in the sleeve,” he said, sliding the phallus into the condom-like portion of the thong. “And turning it like this,” he pulled on its base in a clockwise motion, “Longer or shorter if you turn in reverse.”

 

Severus did not seem impressed. Nor did he seem fazed, or eager. Her wide brown eyes were on him as he placed his hand where George’s had been, lengthening the phallus now concealed inside the sleeve to be roughly the same length as his own cock. He glanced at Hermione briefly and then back down at the thong, but his eyes landed back on her, as if sensing her extreme apprehension. He shook his head slowly. “This will have to wait,” he said and handed the thong back to George, who looked perplexed.

 

“I mean if you need a minute—”

 

The wave of Severus’s hand silenced George. “Given Miss Granger’s current condition…it would be wise to wait and make sure there are no residual effects of revirginizing solution that may cause discomfort or malfunction with this particular product, and as it would be wise to test this product in both positions, you would not want to destroy the sleeve nor the phallus in the process.”

 

Hermione was flabbergasted. Floored and shocked into utter speechlessness. Had he just used logic to cover for her? Inconceivable. But she kept her mouth shut and quickly gazed down at the floor trying to make herself look neutral. “He’s right, George, I wouldn’t want to destroy your erm…well, it, in the event that— well, what he said.”

 

George looked stunned for a moment and then nodded his head. “Right. Good thinking, of course, naturally, that’s why I have you two around,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Then I guess we’ll have to settle for the Tricky Handy Panties,” he said and carefully took the black thong and placed it back in the bright red D2 box. Pulling a rich purple colored heart shaped box out of the hatbox he set it on the table. “Two parts, one for him and one for her,” he said and pulled out an ordinary pair of purple panties, handing them to Hermione.

 

She stared at them quizzically for a moment, holding them up to the light and stretching them in her hands. She could see nothing unusual about them, a standard pair of low rise, full cheek and mound coverage panties in a rather lovely shade of deep purple. There was a cautionary moment where she tugged on the crotch half expecting something wild to come jumping out at her, but after revealing nothing strange about them she shrugged her shoulders and slipped into them, shedding her robe back off her shoulders.

 

Hermione felt them snugly on her body; not tight but form fitting. They were rather soft, jersey worn cotton or faded and well washed cotton, comfortable. She wriggled her backside with a bit of a blush, realizing how silly it must have looked but noting how very comfy she felt wearing them. But they were incredibly comfortable and she found it hard to believe that anything quite so comfortable could have come from inside the box of peculiar oddities that George had thus far subjected her to. She turned a circle and leaned into a lunge just to see if they would stretch with her body and she was surprised to feel that they did. These were the sort of panties that one could easily wear around the house on a day when only panties were necessary. She smiled just the tiniest bit at the notion that someday she might again have a place of her own which would warrant walking around in panties just like them.

 

She turned around in a circle and then just stood for a moment, pleased as punch at how well they seemed to fit her. There was a sudden shift and Hermione shrieked, nearly doubling over as a rather intrusive sensation caught her off guard. It felt as if fingers had been suddenly stroked through her womanhood. Panic was wide in her eyes as she glanced down between her legs, half expecting the panties to be vanished and a creepy purple hand to have been waiting in their wake. But nothing was out of the ordinary and the panties were as they had been, comfortably in place against her body. Her heart was still racing from the sudden sensation when she felt it again only this time two fingers were prodding at her entrance, practically penetrating her and she screamed, wriggling and clenching her thighs, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Turning around she looked at George who was leaning back against the work table watching Severus.

 

Severus, who was wearing a lone purple glove, crafted of similar material, on his right hand was standing and simply flexing two fingers up and down. Hermione moaned, feeling as if the two fingers that she had just felt prodding up into her were now curling up inside against her g-spot. The glove on his hand was skin tight, almost like a layer of purple flesh. She watched as he began to move his thumb in slow deliberate circles and then she cried out, feeling a slow moving pressure circling around her clit. “What— what is he doing?” she asked, jumping as she felt two fingers push more fully up into her, the invisible thumb now flicking at her clit. She noted that Severus was idly flicking his thumb back and forth, quickening the pace of his curling fingers.

 

“Oh— oh!” she cried suddenly feeling a slight pressure between her cheeks. Her eyes were glued on Severus’ gloved hand as he bent his ring finger down and then slowly began to press his pinky upward while continuing to curl his other two fingers. The motions of his hands matched the sensations she was feeling in her panties, despite the fact that they remained clinging firmly to her body. “Oooh…” she moaned, the sound curling off into a whimper as she felt the taut ring of muscles in her anus being penetrated by a slender digit. At first she clenched, her body rigid; and the finger stopped, pressed just a fraction of the way into her back entrance. Her eyes did not leave his hand, which was as still as that of a statue. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to relax and once more the finger began to move, pushing further into her virginal opening.

 

Hermione winced, feeling the slight pain of having such an intrusion. But it was coupled with the now near frantic curling of two fingers deep inside her womanhood. Alternating flicks of pressure hit her clit and she was keening, rocking back and forth alone, her hips desperately seeking to draw the invisible fingers into her further. She could feel her body quickly building up the sexual tension that was mounting to an orgasm. The slim finger in her anus moved more slowly than the two inside her quivering quim but it still felt strange, though not entirely unpleasant.

 

“Hermione, how do you feel?” It was George’s voice.

 

“I don’t know how he’s— but I can feel everything. His fingers everywhere, in me, touching me, on my— my everything,” she panted, feeling his fingers hit that deliciously sensitive spot within her right as he flicked at her clit with his thumb. The orgasm was miniscule compared to the one she’d felt when he’d torn through her hymen, but it was there. Just enough to make her body shudder and her muscles, both in her vagina and her anus, clench tightly. The motion stilled as she rode out the all too short lived and gentle rush of a minor climax.

 

She watched as Severus touched the base of his wrist right where the glove met his flesh and suddenly the fingers vanished, leaving a peculiar feeling in their wake. “What the hell was that?” she asked incredulously.

 

“Motion capture in a charm, sort of,” he said. “The glove acts like a transient receptor of sorts, Severus wears it and the movement of his hand and fingers is translated directly into your knickers.” George was beaming, looking particular proud of what he’d managed. “Brilliant, right?” he asked.

 

If the wet spot that now stained the panties was any indication, she supposed he was right in assessing the novelty as brilliant. Her mind was working overtime trying to process it all. “Would it work with men?”

 

“I suppose so,” said George. “Though I doubt very much those panties will fit Severus properly,” he said with a bit of a blush in his cheeks. As a gay man it was hard not to appreciate the way Severus was endowed, even if he didn’t find the man particularly attractive. “Though I suppose I could develop a pair of briefs that could work in a similar fashion, I’ll put it on my list,” he said and then stretched his arms up over his head. “I know it’s rather early, but would you two be put out if I called it and knocked off a bit early tonight?” he asked.

 

Hermione raised a brow, “Tired?” she asked.

 

George shrugged his shoulders. “A bit, stayed up all night tinkering about with that whoopee cushion and a few other things for the regular novelty lines,” he admitted. “It’s only half eight, still early enough for you two to actually have an evening doing whatever it is you two do outside of work,” he said and then tried to stifle a yawn.

 

“I suppose I don’t mind,” she said and looked at Severus.

 

“Makes no difference to me, so long as I receive payment,” he said. “And tomorrow we can test whatever all else it was you intended to have us test tonight if you wish.”

 

“Sounds good, sounds good,” George said, waving over two small satchels, each containing the 30 crowns. “If you two are right, I’m going to pop off upstairs, order some dinner and call it a night.” He waited for them both to nod before retreating to the staircase and disappearing up into his flat.

 

Hermione sighed. “Thanks,” she said as she took off the panties and moved over toward the hook where her clothes were hung. “For earlier, I don’t know how it’s so obvious that I’d never done that before, but thanks,” she murmured.

 

Severus, who had joined her at the hook and was now into boxers and trousers, paused and looked at her. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, Miss Granger. I am going to suggest that given our extra free time this evening that you accompany me to Spinner’s End,” he frowned and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not fancy the idea of inviting you back to my home; however, it is the lesser of two evils when the alternative is ramming a phallus into your rear when you’ve clearly never had any sort of penetration there before.”

 

Hermione’s face glowed a furious shade of red. “I— surely you don’t mean to—”

 

Severus’s intense stare seemed to kill her words in her throat. “If you were not willing to seek out another method for oral pleasures, I highly doubt you’re going to go about trying to find someone to assist you with the taboo subject of anal penetration, Miss Granger. And while you may think me a monster, I’m no sadist. There’s no pleasure in having that particular orifice, virginal or not, played with if you haven’t been thoroughly prepared. And in your case, a bit of practice couldn’t hurt.”

 

Her mind was racing trying to process all he’d said. So much so that she’d stopped dressing halfway through her routine leaving her in a skirt and bra. She couldn’t take her eyes off him though he’d finished his dressing, buttons and all. He had bent to fasten the buckle of his boots and she swallowed hard. “I…” she nodded her head. “Alright, I suppose you’re right. Spinner’s End, then.” She said and then quickly finished dressing, following him down out of the workshop and onto the street. She had the sinking feeling she was in for another very long night.


	7. Wanted: Sexual Tour Guide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.
> 
> This chapter does involve anal play and anal intercourse, so if that's not your thing, this chapter might not be for you.

Nervous did not begin to describe how she was feeling. Her body trembled from head to toe despite her best efforts to stand still. She had followed him into his house and down the small little hallway into the bathroom. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the workshop and that only served to rattle her further. She noted that he paused in front of the tiny mirror, raising his hand to its surface. He waved his hand and the glass shimmered for a moment before disappearing revealing a small storage space filled with various bottles and toiletries. She watched as he plucked a single vial from the middle of the assortment and then the glass reappeared itself. Turning to face her he handed her the vial.

 

Hermione gazed at it curiously and then frowned. Her eyes met his with queries unanswered in them though she wasn’t sure she trusted herself enough to ask them aloud. He could sense her trepidation, or at the very least tell she was struggling to keep from asking the question. Plucking the cork from the vial he pushed her hand toward her lips. “An effervescing potion, much simpler than any other treatment that I know of in regards to preparing you,” he explained. Her eyes were wide at the implications but she tipped it back against her lips and then swallowed the vial. It was surprisingly sweet, almost like tonic water.

 

“And it just…” her voice trailed off and she blushed.

 

“Miss Granger, there is no sense being embarrassed,” he chided, though his tone was not nearly as scolding as she had expected. “You’re only going to make this more difficult for yourself, and you want this to be as simple as possible.”

 

She nodded her head. “Right,” she mumbled, still feeling awkward and apprehensive about it. Aside from the fact that it was such a taboo, and the fact the he seemed so knowledgeable, it was one more sexual arena in which she lacked any experience. The basic understanding was there, she’d glanced briefly over the concept in a book before but the notion had never really appealed to her. Not for lack of curiosity, but simply because the fumbling excuse for sex that Ron had provided had left her unwilling to try much outside of the missionary position. Not that he would have lasted long enough for such explorations. Now she found herself faced with a man; and not just any man but a man who seemed to have endless virility. The prospect was daunting to say the least.

 

To say it had surprised her that he kept such things on hand was an understatement, though she wasn’t sure how exactly to pose such a question to him without seeming nosey or just rude in general. But again her thoughts must have presented themselves across her face for she found him staring, poised on the edge of speaking. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

 

“For?” he asked, that subtle flash of amusement echoing in his eyes for the briefest of seconds, then replaced by his normal unreadable look.

 

Hermione’s lips puckered as she thought about how to articulate her thoughts. “It’s just, well, surprising I suppose is the word. It surprises me that you would have such a thing here, and ready.”

 

He held her gaze, studying her. His eyes moved slowly across her face taking in the expression that was written in each muscle before he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “You find such a thing out of the ordinary because you assume that I have no sex life outside of the inadvertent one I’ve found myself in with you in this job or because you have trouble wrapping your mind around the fact that a person such as myself has bisexual tendencies or might in fact be of a bisexual orientation, perhaps even homosexual?”

 

Her eyes were wide. She hadn’t really expected a response, much less a series of rather bold statements that sent her spinning off her head. That indeed made her mind race. Was he having sexual relations with another person? Was the idea so far-fetched that it was impossible to imagine in her mind? Hermione frowned, he had always seemed to off-putting, but she supposed other than what she’d witnessed of him in the workshop she didn’t truly know much about him. Then her stomach dropped, thinking of the lover he might keep on the side, unable to see her, or him, at night because of taking the job. She tried not to look stricken. “I hadn’t thought that you—”

 

Severus shook his head. “That much is obvious, you not thinking, but before you go worrying your head over catching something I have no current sexual partner.” This gave her pause, a sense of relief, but also a sense of foreboding confusion.

 

“Are you gay?” the question came blurting out of her mouth before she could stop it.

 

A derisive snort was his only response for the first very uncomfortable moment after she’d asked the question. And then he rolled his eyes. “Do you imagine that if I were it would be something I would be sharing with you?”

 

Her brow furrowed and her face looked deeply wrinkled with pensive thought. “It would certainly explain your…erm, your ability to maintain such control during these tests.”

 

“Perhaps,” he said, still holding her gaze although she kept glancing away. “However, there are numerous other explanations for my behavior in that regard. And surely you would not assume a gay man to possess such skills as you came seeking from me the other night?”

 

He was impossible. Speaking in riddles and throwing out more questions to her. It made her brain hurt trying to process it all. She supposed he was right on both counts. When she thought about it she realized it wasn’t really any of her business as to whether or not he was gay; if he could perform for the job that should have been enough, though a part of her was saddened to think how difficult or unpleasant it must be to do so with someone not of his preferred gender. But he’d toppled that theory by making her think about how he’d administered such skilled oral sex to her person the other night, the memory alone sending shivers up her spine. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You aren’t going to tell me either way, are you?” she asked and then slowly opened her eyes catching his gaze.

 

“Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, that it is none of your business, however…” he paused thoughtfully and then let the ghost of a smirk slip over his lips. “Since we are about to endeavor into a course of action that requires you to be completely relaxed…if knowing will put your mind at ease…” he waited until she was staring at him, holding her eyes with a piercing gaze of his own. Leaning forward slightly to bridge the gap between them he lowered his voice. “I have taken a wizard or two to bed in my time, a witch or two as well, and find that there is little difference between them.” It didn’t at all answer her question and this much must have been obvious because he spoke once more. “I believe I would be identified as bisexual, Miss Granger, though I do not personally claim a sexual preference one way or the other.”

 

Her dumbstruck nod must have been sufficient understanding because he stepped back from her and continued to stare. She didn’t know what to say. It was an open confession of sorts, though to what exactly she still couldn’t say. But he wasn’t going to give her time to ruminate on it. 

 

“Follow me,” he said. Severus brushed by her and stepped out into the hallway taking the three steps back to his bedroom door. She hadn’t really thought about where he might attempt to have them do the deed, only she had hoped that he wasn’t going to push her up onto the kitchen counter as he had before. It seemed he was opting for his bedroom, which unnerved her even more. But she supposed the makeshift lumpy couch, which had remained in his living room, wouldn’t really be suitable for such an endeavor. Swallowing hard she followed him into his bedroom and paused a moment just to look around.

 

It wasn’t particularly lavish, though she hadn’t expected it would be. A simple bureau, and an old steamer trunk in one corner; a small nightstand and the bed. What surprised her was the bed. While she hadn’t thought it would be much more than functional she was astonished to see that it was a rather small single mattress upon a metal frame with little else to it. A pang of something completely unfamiliar to her struck her stomach as she gazed at the bed, realizing that he slept in a single sized bed, completely alone. And while it made sense as the man did live alone and was not exactly the most gregarious sort, it saddened her to think of his long frame on such a restricted surface. Especially considering what she had just learned of him. But she didn’t dare express this aloud, only watched as he moved over toward it and stood with his hands at his side.

 

“You’ll want to undress,” he said turning his head back to nod at her. “If it will put you more at ease I will afford you a modicum of privacy, however, given what we do on a daily basis I would imagine you’ll do just as well changing here, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione stiffened hearing him once again using her surname. “You want me to be at ease then please…just don’t address me,” she said softly. “I know you’re not going to stop using my surname, but it’s making me nervous, so just— I don’t know— just don’t,” she said. She was surprised when he offered her a curt nod in return and slowly began undoing the meticulous line of buttons down his frock coat. His fingers worked in an enchanting rhythm; each button gliding through the hole until it was undone and he moved onto the next one. Realizing that she was meant to be undressing rather than watching him undress, Hermione pulled her arms through her sleeves and then carefully folded her jumper. She placed it atop the steamer trunk in the corner and then unfastened her bra, letting the straps slide down her shoulders. In a moment she was standing, if nervously so, naked in Severus Snape’s bedroom, gazing at the small single bed.

 

He had stopped undressing when he’d gotten his frock coat and trousers off, leaving him in the long sleeved white button down shirt and his boxer shorts. He looked at her briefly and then undid every button on the shirt, leaving him in a simple undershirt. “Come here,” he said, standing and watching her, eyes fixated on her face as she took timid steps toward him. “Your body is naturally going to be nervous, but you need to relax or this will be unpleasant,” he said. He didn’t mix words, and although his tone was instructional it lacked the harsh echoes it had when he’d been fussing with her while brewing the previous night. She trembled just the same, feeling very vulnerable and exposed standing naked before him. It didn’t matter that he saw her naked on a daily basis in the workshop, there was something about George’s presence that made her notice Severus’ gaze less.

 

It wasn’t that he intimidated her, though she supposed he did just the tiniest bit. And she trusted him, she wouldn’t have come to him the very first time seeking assistance if she didn’t. But there was just something she couldn’t shake from within her, something that made her terribly nervous and very shy. And the new onslaught of information over her sexual preference hadn’t helped. She imagined that even if he wasn’t about to take her anal virginity she would still be petrified and shaking as she was. Hermione tried drawing slow deep breaths through her nose to calm herself but it didn’t really seem to help. Her eyes held his gaze expectantly, awaiting further instruction; her mind asunder. Why hadn’t he undressed all the way? That made her more nervous than if he were standing naked with her. She was very close to him, their bodies just a few inches apart though there was no touching. There was heat radiating off their bodies; or maybe just her body it was difficult to tell but she was certainly growing warmer.

 

“I want you to lie down,” he said softly, his voice even, but just barely a whisper. “On your side, and just relax,” he said and then moved to stand around the left side of the bed. “With your back facing me,” he added and then waited for her to comply. A lump had formed in her throat and her heart was thundering erratically in her chest. She could feel pins and needles tingling up and down her spine as she took a step toward the bed. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as it looked. Sinking down onto the mattress she decided it must have been charmed to give way with her weight as the derelict spring frame beneath it did not appear to be so accommodating. Hermione eased herself down onto his bed, laying on her side with her back to him. She closed her eyes, her chest now tingling as she held her breath.

 

“Just relax…” his voice was softer still, one firm hand now pressing against her hip. She felt the depression of the mattress as he sank down beside her; spooning his body against hers. He’d removed his shirt but she could still feel the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against the back of her thighs as he slowly began to stroke his hand up and down her hip. The two of them took up every inch of available space on the tiny mattress; even with their bodies pressed together she feared that if either of them shifted one of them might end on the floor.

 

She tensed when she felt his lips quite close to her ear, speaking in a whisper without actually touching her ear. “Sharp and sudden movements are painful, a proper penetration requires patience and stimulation.” His hand continued to stroke her hip, trailing up toward her waist and down over her thigh; gently back and forth, back and forth, his palm making soft sweeping contact with her skin.

 

Hermione could feel him against her body; the contact was strangely comforting and yet at the same time winding her body tightly with arousal; she wasn’t sure if that was helping her relax or making her more tense. She closed her eyes and tried not to concentrate on anything but the way his hand swept up and down over her thigh, how each tantalizingly slow stroke of his palm brought his fingertips closer up over her thigh toward her sex. It was still a queer sensation; having no hair whatsoever between her legs. She’d always been natural and having herself be sleek and smooth was something to which she was still adjusting. When his fingertips did touch her mound she shivered a bit.

 

“You are very jumpy,” he whispered and then stilled his hand just over her mound, fingertips idly resting over her labia. “The anal sphincter does not dilate on its own, nor does it produce natural lubricant, so you just need to relax…” he repeated.

 

Did he not understand it was easier said than done and that his whispered voice was driving her mad? Every subtle note in his silky voice was sending little tendrils of pleasure unfurling into her body, winding her tightly with sexual anxiety. And the more he told her to relax the more wound up she felt; her heart still running a marathon inside her chest. “Stop talking,” she muttered and opened her eyes, tilting her head back to gaze up into his eyes. “Your voice is…” she trailed off but then quickly remembered what he had said about being embarrassed. “It’s not helping, Severus. Your voice has an effect on my body that I’m ashamed to admit but it’s not helping me relax, it’s winding me up, so just stop talking.” And then she blushed. “Please.”

 

She had expected him to get short with her, to pull back and throw her out, but none of those things happened. He remained silent, the heat of his breath still against the back of her ear as his hand once again began to stroke her. It was almost like a massage the way he was rubbing his fingers over her labia, gently rubbing them. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way his fingers dipped in and out of her folds, which were beginning to slicken with her arousal. It was enough just to feel his fingers there and for a moment she shivered thinking of how filling his fingers had been earlier that evening. She exhaled deeply; a soft moan trailing over her lips as she felt the tip of one finger prodding at her slick entrance. It was then she felt his other hand, angled strangely up against her backside, fingers applying the slightest pressure to her cheeks; kneading her flesh. It felt strangely pleasant; a massage of sorts as he slipped one finger up into her heat.

 

“Uh…” she whimpered feeling his finger curl in that telltale come-hither gesture up inside of her. She couldn’t rationalize his behavior anymore than she could refute it and without thinking on it she arched her body back against his, her back fully pressed against his chest. Her encouraging gesture prompted another finger to slip up inside of her quivering heat, his other hand still massaging her ass cheek, back and forth, fingers gliding toward the crack of her ass and back out in slow, deliberate sweeping motions.

 

“Spread your legs…” he whispered. His voice was so soft; a rich velvety command that had her trembling but immediately obeying. Splaying one leg back and pulling the other forward till it was hanging half off the mattress, she parted her thighs, feeling his fingers shifting within her as she did. The hand that had been massaging her cheek cupped the back of her thigh and pulled it gently back a little further, letting his hand now rest just below her sex, two fingers on his other hand still pumping into her, curling and twisting.

 

She was grinding her hips in tiny gyrations against his fingers, whimpering as he stroked her pleasure spot inside of her. All thoughts of rocking herself off the edge of the mattress were quickly vanishing as the feeling of intense pleasure began to surge through her. There was an radiating heat in the core of her being; flooding through her as she drew closer to a climax. His warm breath on her neck combined with the way he stroked her idly; fingers running down below her sex and back up through her cheeks, just tenderly touching her made her shiver, her whole body beginning to shake with spasms. “Ooh…uuhn,” she grunted, feeling a wave of heated pleasure break through her body. Her muscles seized and her climax took her; her walls clenching against his fingers. Quivering as she came down from her all too quick-lived high, she felt his fingers withdraw from her quim, now covered in her slickness. Trailing his fingers down below her sex she felt him slowly begin to trace circles around the tight bud of her anus; the slickness of her arousal being massaged into her sphincter.

 

Lips rested gingerly against her neck, and she sighed trying to feel more of him. Something inside of her was urging her to turn into his arms, but she didn’t wish to dislodge the gentle way he was circling her anus and she really didn’t want to pitch backward off the mattress either. There was something comforting about the way he held her; like he might a lover, and her mind ran wild with the idea. He wasn’t even really holding her, but their bodies were pressed so intimately together he might as well have been. She still wasn’t sure about if she could take him, but she was beginning to feel less terrified of the notion. The slight pressure of his fingertip made her clench. The warm press of his lips more prominently against her skin, directly against her pulse point eased her. “Breathe…” he whispered, his words muffled against her skin as he gently prodded his fingertip at her entrance once more.

 

The hand that had previously massaged her flesh was now creeping around the side of her hip and began to idly stroke her slick folds, his thumb easily finding her swollen clit. Hermione whimpered as she felt him slowly begin to push his finger into her anus; the ring of taut muscles easing only slightly. Her body seemed intent on forcing him out despite her best efforts to remain calm. She closed her eyes, trying to relax but to no avail. Severus stopped pressing his finger forward and leaned his lips up against her earlobe. “Let your body relax,” he whispered and then he pressed his lips at the sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. An erogenous zone; Hermione’s body arched as she felt his tongue applying pressure there, his thumb once more circling her clit. There were so many pleasurable sensations flooding her body that she exhaled deeply; a low moan filling the room.

 

She could feel him once again slowly pushing his finger into her anus; her muscles slightly more at ease than before. It helped; the extra stimulation with his thumb teasing her clit and his lips awakening that spot just behind her ear. She moaned a bit more when she felt his finger slide further up inside of her, the base of his hand coming to rest against her now plugged entrance. Again he was speaking, though he sounded far away through the lusty fog of her mind. “Rock your hips back…there…” he was shifting his hand back and forth pushing his finger slowly in and out. It wasn’t nearly as painful as she had imagined it to be, though she couldn’t say it was overly pleasurable either. She rocked against him for several moments in that fashion before she felt him ease his finger back out of her entirely.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his lips still at the back of her ear.

 

“Yes…” she said her voice barely a breathy whisper. “Should I—”

 

“Just stay where you are,” his words were slow, each one spoken with a deliberate care. “This position lets you keep your legs spread which helps to ease the tension in your anal muscles.” He didn’t shift back from her at all but she felt the tingling sensation of his boxers dissolving away from his body. It took her breath away; feeling the rigid length of his cock now pressed against her backside and for a moment she was tense again, clenching her cheeks and stiffening her spine. “Just relax…” he repeated, his thumb still drawing lazy circles around her clit. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the way he touched her, the way his body lined against hers. He was warm, his skin melding into hers with heat trapped between them.

 

One hand was now stroking between her cheeks, which were spread, and she tried just to enjoy the extremely ticklish caress. Hermione closed her eyes again, having trouble deciding which was better eyes open and seeing nothing but his bare bedroom wall or having her eyes closed and visualizing him with his stoic expression on his face. Hermione exhaled feeling the way his body shifted subtly against her. “Be gentle,” her voice was quaking.

 

Severus had summoned a tube of lubricant, from where she didn’t see and she wasn’t even really aware of it until she felt his fingers once again massaging her anus; this time coating her liberally with the slippery gel. She trembled a bit but eased back against him when she felt him rubbing more firmly against her clit; the attention to her sensitive nerve bundle coming and going, just enough to keep her teetering close to a second orgasm. His hand was easing down her thigh and gently pulled her leg back and up, lifting it up above his leg and guiding her knee until she was splayed wide with her calf hooked over the side of his thigh. She shuddered a bit but the soothing caress of his hand kept her still and she tilted her head back, craning her neck until she was gazing up at his throat.

 

He shifted his head downward just slightly, gazing down into her eyes. “You need to tell me if it hurts or if it’s too much,” he whispered, his hand now wrapped around the base of his cock, easing it forward to press against her anus. She swallowed, feeling the head of his cock, much firmer and far larger than his finger had been and immediately she felt the urge to clench her muscles, but she fought against it and tried to remain calm. She was well lubricated, and her cunt was still pulsating, her clit being stimulated. With her head tilted back she could gaze up at him, seeing his eyes and there was something about looking into them that made it easier; made her trust him more.

 

The slight pressure was good deal more intense as he pushed forward, the head of his cock pushing through the taut ring of muscles at her entrance. He didn’t slam forward as she had thought he might and for a moment he just remained still, letting her adjust to the size of him, even if it was only the tip. Hermione whimpered a bit as he began to slide forward shaking her head. “It’s really tight…” her eyes were frantically searching his, her lips pressing firmly together to keep from whimpering again.

 

“I’m a big man, it’s going to be tight, but I can wait.” His words were simple, but slow as they had been before; reassuring in their own way. He brought his other hand slowly up the length of her body, cupping her right breast and giving it a squeeze. Fingers found her nipple and rolled it to a stiffened peak, his eyes never leaving hers as he played with her body, waiting for her to relax into the transition. He leaned back onto his hip a bit, letting her body fall more fully back on him as he began to push himself a bit further into her.

 

A strangled cry escaped her lips; he was big, there was no denying that. She had felt just how big he was every time he had fucked her. And now he was making his way into a virginal space that was tight to begin with. She felt full and she knew that he’d only just begun to fill her; the stretching sensation and the way her anal muscles contracted around him making her feel dizzy. She closed her eyes but his lips brushing against her jaw forced them open. “You’re going to feel full…the dizziness will ease when you breathe,” he said as if he’d been reading her mind. And perhaps he had, but at that point she didn’t care, anything to help make it less awkward. She had been holding her breath without realizing it and exhaling a deep breath she felt her body loosen just a bit. “Your muscles are more at ease when you breathe…” he whispered, the hand that had previously held her breast now slowly sliding up to cup her chin. “Just keep breathing…”

 

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on how close to her he was. They were literally joined; even if he only was pushing into her just the slightest; but she could feel him everywhere- the way his chest was heaving up and down against her back, the way her leg hooked around his— the slightly coarse prickle of his leg hair tickling her smooth skin. His hair even brushed her neck when he spoke and she could feel every breath he drew against her jaw. There was an intimacy; unlike anything they’d experienced in the workshop. Even when she’d sought him out to experience cunnilingus there hadn’t been so much touching. This was different and it made her whole body melt in the moment as she realized that. She could feel her muscles relaxing just a bit more and she opened her eyes, gazing up at him. Hermione nodded her head, tilting it inward to rest her cheek against his throat.

 

He was quiet as he slowly began to push into her; the tightness and fiery heat of her ass giving him a good deal of trouble as he forced himself to move slowly. It was an intense struggle as he fought to keep from simply slamming into her; but he maintained control and carefully eased himself bit by bit until he was pressed fully into her; his balls resting firmly against her backside. “Are you alright?” he asked, the hand that had previously been stroking her clit now gripping her hip. His other hand was still cupped at her cheek.

 

Her lips parted and she moaned; she felt full as if he would rip her in two, but not painfully so as he wasn’t actually ripping anything at that moment. “I’m…yes,” she nodded her head, little rivulets of sweat trickling down her brow as she nuzzled her nose against the side of his neck, inhaling his scent. “So full…” she mumbled, wriggling a bit as her anal muscles clenched around him. Severus grunted slightly, the tight clamping motion around his cock causing him to shudder. “Are you?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at him once more. The spooning position was a bit awkward to stare at him but she needed to see his eyes.

 

Severus nodded. “I’m going to ease back…if it hurts you need to tell me,” he said and with his hand firmly gripped on her hip he began to pull himself back out of her, not withdrawing entirely. When he was nearly all the way out he slowly began to push himself back into her; an elongated thrust without any real force behind it.

 

It was an impossible sensation and she was only grateful that it was happening privately, even if it was happening in the very small single bed in Severus Snape’s home. She would have been completely lost for words if George had asked her to relate what she was feeling aloud. There was heat and friction and pressure; a sensation of being filled, and there was pleasure though not like anything she’d ever really experienced before and they were all happening at once. She could feel his cock inside of her, pressing deep into places that had never been explored; filling her and stretching her, and it made her whimper though she wasn’t pained. Hermione arched back against him feeling him push forward into her again, this time a bit more fully and she groaned. “Oooh…”

 

“That is not a pained sound,” his whisper caressed her jaw and she shivered feeling him gradually increase his pace. He wasn’t harsh though his thrusts did get stronger; his pelvis smacking against her ass as he pumped his shaft in and out of her. She was whimpering more as he began to move a bit faster, fucking her more fully. Her whole body felt alive with sensation; thrumming and humming in ways she’d never felt before as he filled her with each stroke of his cock.

 

He was panting, his breath hot against her ear and it made her cry out, a breathy moan that pitched up as she heard him groan. It was a deep rich sound reverberating through his chest, the first real sound she had heard him make in all of her experiences with him. Even the subtle cracks in his voice when she’d sprayed him with the clouds did not compare to the sound she’d just heard. Even in the middle of the most exhilarating sexual experience she’d ever encountered her mind was racing; it was nearly as impossible for her to shut off her mind as it seemed to be for him to thoroughly enjoy himself when they were working in the workshop. But in that moment it was a different story, at least enough for her to feel more comfortable with him.

 

Her hands had been idle up to that point but Hermione quickly found them reaching up behind her to caress the side of his body, stroking the side of his torso with one hand, the other trying to bend and twist down between their legs and stroke at the back of his thigh. She didn’t know what she was doing but she knew that she needed to touch more of him. And in that moment it seemed that he was too caught up in the rhythmic motions of fucking her to notice or care; or at least he didn’t seem displeased with her added touching of him. Their bodies trembled together as he pumped into her harder, groaning again as he pushed himself in her and shuddered his release within her.

 

Hermione cried out feeling the burst of heat inside her ass; not entirely unpleasant but completely unexpected and extremely intense. It wasn’t enough to push her over the edge but it did feel nice. There wasn’t a better word for it as she felt him slacken somewhat against her backside. She laid there panting quietly, listening to his breathing as it began to slow. No words came to mind. What did one say in a situation like that, thanks very much for the buggery see you tomorrow? So she lay there, feeling his cock slowly slipping from her ass, though his body did not pull immediately away from her. He wasn’t holding her, though her leg was still hooked up around his thigh; and she closed her eyes for just a moment, breathing in and out just trying to absorb everything that had happened.

 

In the moment it took her to just try and breathe it all in she had somehow dozed off without even realizing it. And when she opened her eyes she realized several things all at once, the first of which being that she had fallen asleep for an indeterminate amount of time in the very tiny bed of Severus Snape. The second of which being that she was still completely naked and rather chilled in the tiny bed, and the last thing she noticed was that he was no longer spooned behind her, and as far as she could tell, not in the bed at all. Hermione turned over, half expecting to fall out of the bed, but she caught herself on the edge of the mattress and gazed around the room.

 

She yelped, drawing her knees up to her chest in a fetal curl as she spied him— now fully dressed in all his black regalia— seated on the steamer trunk in the corner of the room. Hermione grasped at the sheet that was beneath her and pulled it up around her body before sitting up and staring at him. “How long was I asleep for?”

 

Severus, who was sitting up straight simply stared at her. “About an hour.”

 

“You should have—”

 

“The experience was tiresome,” he shrugged. “And its often best to check on one’s partner after such an experience to ensure that there is no lingering discomfort.”

 

“Oh,” she mumbled, blushing as she looked down into her sheet covered lap. Hermione took a mental inventory of her body and while her rear felt a bit odd it wasn’t excruciating or even really painful, just a little sore like muscles that hadn’t been used in a while after a rousing bout of exercise. “I think I’m alright, a little stiff maybe, but I’m not in pain.”

 

He nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. She waited for him to speak again, to address her or perhaps dismiss her, as had become his custom, but he said nothing. The silence unnerved her but she wasn’t really sure what to say either. Thanking him seemed foolish and would most likely earn her a chastisement of one form or another. And she didn’t think she could just stand up, collect her clothes, and leave without a word. Of course she didn’t really have any idea what time it was or where she would go if it were too late. This made her frown and again she felt guilt creeping into her mind. He had been so clearly off-put by having her stay with him the previous night that she didn’t want to put either of them through it again, but at the same time she wasn’t quite sure that she was in any state to apparate.

 

“Could I—” she cut herself off, swallowing back her words to keep from sounding foolish.

 

Severus quirked a slender black eyebrow up onto his forehead. “Speechless…that most certainly is new.” His sarcastic tone had returned and it made her blush. “Could you what, Miss Granger?”

 

Her body stiffened when again she heard him use her surname. She was grateful that he had done as she’d asked and during the lesson he hadn’t addressed her as such. Her mind chided her for referring to it as a lesson, some deep desire inside of her still desperately trying to see him as a professor. Her hand clutched the sheet of his bed to her chest, keeping her well covered as she shifted up to sit on her knees. “Which do you think will be easier?” she asked. The nod of his head indicated her continuance. “I mean for tomorrow night, you told George that he should want to test that thing both ways…which do you think would be easier— having the phallus in me first or you?”

 

The ghost of a smirk painted itself across his lips and he gave a clipped sigh. “I don’t suppose one will be easier than the other though you may find that you are more comfortable with what you’ve already experienced.” 

 

Hermione’s bitter laugh seemed to startle them both as she cupped her hand over her mouth and he gazed at her with both brows raised. “Forgive me,” she muttered. And then she sighed. “I just— I don’t imagine tomorrow night will be anything like that, so I doubt having you first versus the phallus will do me any good in the arena of ‘the enemy I know’ or whatever.”

 

“No, Miss Granger, I doubt very much that anything we ever do in that workshop will be anything like what you’ve just felt just now.”

 

“You were more intimate just now…” she bowed her head, gazing once more down into her lap.

 

“An hour ago,” he corrected.

 

“Whatever.” She lifted her eyes without lifting her head and stared at him. “You were.”

 

“You needed reassuring,” he said simply. “It would have been painful and unpleasant if you remained as tense and nervous as you had been when you walked into my house this evening. Physical contact in most human beings is a thing craved at the very core of one’s being. Full bodied physical contact eases the mind and stimulates the body to respond in kind.”

 

Whether he was using it as an excuse to dismiss how familiar he’d been with her body or whether he was truly trying to import some greater wisdom to her she couldn’t be sure but she listened carefully anyhow. She shifted a bit, her knees poking out from beneath the sheets. “Do you not crave physical contact?”

 

“And what business of that is yours?” he asked, the slight sneer she had all too often witnessed as a student in his class coming to grace his features.

 

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose it’s not, though since we’re likely to be spending a bit more time together than you or I had ever anticipated I figured it might not be the world’s worst idea to get to know more about you.”

 

Severus sighed, letting his head lean back against the wall. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps,” he muttered. “But not tonight. I’ve things to do.” She nodded her head and was about to ask what things but he seemed to anticipate the question. “That ridiculous red-head is going to insist I brew massive quantities of that depilatory solution so a head start seems appropriate.” When she did not look away from his eyes he narrowed them at her and then he rolled his eyes. “You are taxing, Miss Granger.”

 

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” she protested.

 

“No but your face says it all without you ever having to utter a word, both a blessing and a curse all at once.” Severus stood from the steamer trunk and moved over to the bed, perching precariously on the edge so that he was facing her but not close enough that they could touch. “I am not a person who entertains house guests, Miss Granger. I live alone because I choose to, if I wanted a roommate I would have one.”

 

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say to this. “I think you’re lonely.”

 

“I think you’re annoying,” he countered and watched her cheeks fill with color. “It’s bad enough you slept here last night, and then I awoke to find you taking liberties with my bath—”

 

“It’s just for tonight—”

 

Severus raised his hand to silence her; a gesture that never failed at its intended purpose. “That is a lie and you know it.” Hermione looked stricken and had opened her mouth to protest but he held up his hand once more. “It’s just for tonight,” he repeated mocking her in a pitched falsetto. Then he rolled his eyes, voice normal once again. “Until the next night comes along where we’ve been kept late and you’re too tired to properly apparate to wherever it is that you apparate to, or it’s well past the decent hour to go calling upon your friends for a room to stay in.” Her eyes practically bulged out of her head and again she made to contradict him but he continued on. “And if memory serves me you were whinging about never having given a blow job before…no doubt that line of product testing is coming,” he muttered and then pinched the bridge of his nose again. “And then I shall find you on my front stoop whimpering about that, which will result in another night of wishing to stay here.”

 

She didn’t know whether or not she was more infuriated or mortified with his words, but she was certainly leaning toward the angrier side of things. It was bad enough that she was in the situation she was in but to have him speaking of it as if it were also his burden made her blood boil. Though as she pursed her lips to spit out a string of nasty insults she realized that perhaps his lament was spawned from his own accursed situation. At least he had the house they were currently sitting in. His voice drew her out of her thoughts.

 

“I am not an accommodating person and I am certainly not giving up my bed just because you find yourself in a situation—”

 

“Severus, shut up,” she said and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.” She added and then sighed. “Listen,” she started and then thought better of it. What a peculiar conversation to be having especially since beneath the bed sheet she was still naked. “I could tuck myself away in a spare room—”

 

“There is no spare room, Miss Granger,” he said flatly.

 

“Are you a wizard or aren’t you?” she asked incredulously. “An extendor charm would solve that problem without issue, even in this muggle house—”

 

“Extendor charms—”

 

She cut him off. “When executed with two or more wizards or witches who are skilled, practiced, and developed in their magical ability hold up just fine even in a muggle house,” she said with a hint of triumph in her voice. She made to cross her arms over her chest but realized that she would lose hold of the sheet that was keeping her from being seen by him.

 

“You’re not going to leave me a choice in the matter, are you?” he muttered and then shook his head. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But it’s not something that needs to be addressed tonight.”

 

Hermione frowned. “The couch then, I suppose.”

 

Severus snorted. “You may have weaseled your way into my house, Miss Granger, but you had best think twice before being so bold as to think that you can weasel me out of my own bed.”

 

She nodded her head and then swung her legs around the side of the bed, standing with the sheet still draped around her. “Would you mind if I used the shower?”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “My shower, not the shower. My shower,” he corrected her and then glared at her. When she made no motion to move or correct the way in which she had spoken he rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he waved her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Severus gazed wide eyed as she dropped the bed sheet, turned her backside to him and slipped out the bedroom and into the hall, disappearing behind the sound of the bathroom door closing and then creaking slightly inward from its broken frame.

 

It was small victory but a victory nonetheless. She was practically giddy as she stepped up into the shower and fiddled with the taps until they were blasting hot water from the showerhead above. The spray felt good pelting against her body and her muscles relaxed completely under the gush of hot water. There had never been a plan in her mind to stay with Severus Snape but he’d made it sound as if that had been her ulterior motive all along. Even if it wasn’t she supposed there would be no convincing him otherwise. And now she was to be living with him. That would certainly be interesting.

 

She made do with the single bar of soap, making a mental note that with her first few payments from George she would need to purchase some actual toiletries, shampoo, conditioner and things of the like. She’d really just been working with charms up to that point but with the prospect of having an actual shower constantly available to her, even if it was only temporary, made her consider actually being able to properly wash her hair. That was another little delight that made her heart skip a beat. Even if she was living with Severus Snape, she was going to be residing in a house; a house that meant no more apparating to beaches to sleep through the day, no more idly milling about between Ginny’s, The Burrow, and Percy’s flat, and no more feeling so very lost. These thoughts consumed her until the water began to run cold and for a moment she was very startled. And then she remembered that he was living in a muggle house and most likely had not deigned to enchant the pipes. She imagined that as a man, particularly as the man he was, that showers lasted only a few minutes and he would have no real need for such enchantments. She made a mental note to adjust the pipes in the morning, too excited and exhausted to fiddle with them at present.

 

Shutting the water off she shook her head, droplets falling everywhere, little rivers streaming down her back from her neck. And then she cringed, realizing that she was once again in the no-towel situation. She had walked into the bathroom naked, a little mark of defiance as she’d let him have a good long look at her retreating backside. Hermione wasn’t sure whether or not it had had any effect on him, and given that he didn’t particularly identify himself as a sexual being— be it bisexual or otherwise— she wasn’t really sure it mattered. But her momentary childish statement had left her in quite the predicament.

 

“Accio towel!” she tried crying out, wondering if the towels were tucked away someplace clever concealed behind an enchanted wall the way the medicine cabinet had been behind the mirror. She waited several moments but no towel appeared in her hand or even came floating through the door to push against the shower curtain. Hermione sighed. This was indeed going to be embarrassing. “Severus?” she called out, raising her voice. “Severus?” she repeated, a bit louder than before.

 

“Are you bleeding?” the question surprised her when she heard him enter the bathroom, and she frowned, realizing that he must have thought she was calling out because she’d discovered anal trauma on her person.

 

“No, I’m fine; I’m sorry I didn’t mean to alarm you…” she trailed off, her voice only muffled a tiny bit from behind the shower curtain. “I just— where do you keep the towels?” she asked.

 

His annoyed sigh echoed through the small bathroom. “There is a panel in the hallway that slides to reveal shelves of a linen closet,” he muttered and she heard him retreat, entering a moment later. His hand appeared around the shower curtain, this time holding a dark blue towel, and she took it from him. Her fingers brushed his and she felt a little jolt as they touched. She was quick to wrap the towel around her body, pull the shower curtain back, and carefully step from the tub. Hermione’s eyes were met with his intense black stare and she found herself momentarily paralyzed.

 

After a moment he spoke. “Should you find yourself experiencing any discomfort, or anything unusual…” he trailed off and watched as she nodded her understanding of his line of thought.

 

“Have you done this before?”

 

“Done what?” he asked.

 

“Walked someone through their first time…well their first anal experience, you just seem rather knowledgeable is all,” she confessed, trying not to let her blush get the better of her. Water was dripping down her neck from her wet hair and she wished for all the world that drying charms didn’t make her curls turn into massive tangled frizz balls. She could feel the little trickles of water sliding down and soaking the back of the towel but she kept her eyes on him just the same.

 

Severus, who was always a man of perfect posture, leaned into the doorframe and shook his head slowly. “One gains knowledge through other means than practicing, Miss Granger, you of all people should know that.”

 

“I know,” she said and quickly added. “You just seemed to have a sort of knowledge that one could only gain through…well…” she shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t have to answer me, I suppose it’s really none of my business.”

 

“It isn’t,” he agreed with her and then added. “But you would be right in saying that this was not my first experience guiding another through their first experience.” He seemed to delight in talking in riddles, or at least took pleasure in knowing it both baffled and perplexed her to hear him speak them. “Though you are the first female.”

 

This tinted her cheeks a bright scarlet. So many questions were racing about in her mind, none of which she felt she could honestly ask in that moment, even if she hadn’t been wearing only a towel. His sexuality was a topic of desperate interest though she knew it would be difficult to get him to want to talk about it; he’d only conceded and expressed to her his ambivalence despite his encounters to help her feel more at ease about the fact that he was about to take her anal virginity. She doubted very much that there would be other situations that would require such a trade of honest information from him. Hermione bit her lower lip before posing him with a question. “Am I your first female like that?”

 

He shook his head. “Just the first who was experiencing her first.”

 

“Right,” she said, trying to juxtapose the images in her head. That he had indulged in anal intercourse with other women but only been a sexual tour guide for men in the rear-end department. Her lips were pressed together as if she might query him again.

 

“If you’re quite through with questions for tonight…” he gestured to the door, “The couch awaits you.”

 

Hermione nodded and then moved toward the door. He did not immediately right himself from where he leaned and for a moment she pressed against his body in an attempt to slide by. It pinned them both in a rather compromising position and she blushed furiously, feeling the heat still radiating from his skin through his clothes. “Goodnight, Severus,” she whispered stepping back off his body and slipping down the little hallway into the sitting room. If he called a response to her she didn’t hear it. It was indeed a long night.


	8. Silk and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter revisits the D2 so there will be a bit more anal sex, and a little bit of anilingus near the end of the workshop scene with another new product. So if those aren’t your forte, I apologize and fair warning. But we get some regular sex and some fun with silks in here too!

The night was long but the morning was longer. Waking up on the couch again with a stiff neck had made her less than pleasant when she’d finally roused herself from slumber. She hadn’t bothered with a shower, afraid that she might incense him over being found in the tub when he was trying to use it, and more afraid that they would have another awkward bathroom encounter. There was something terribly unsettling about being half-naked around him despite the fact that she was fully naked with him when they worked together in George’s workshop. She hadn’t even dared to peak into the fridge, not wanting to be intrusive. There would be time to discuss common room type rules later. Hermione hadn’t thought to leave a note upon her departure but figured that it wasn’t necessary as he didn’t seem overly thrilled with her presence in the first place.

 

Her first apparation lead her to Diagon Alley, the Mecca of wizarding shops. She wasn’t really sure what she intended to purchase, other than a quick spot of tea and a bit of breakfast, but she did have a few nights worth of payments now inside her enchanted purse. She supposed the first thing of note would have to be a bed. Hermione was determined to remain frugal only buying what was absolutely necessary so that she could start saving money for a flat of her own, even if it was a dingy room over The Leaky Cauldron as she imagined living with Severus Snape would not be tolerable for long. Or at the very least he wouldn’t tolerate it for long. She tried not to dwell on the matter as she sipped her tea and made her way down the long winding alley filled with various shops.

 

Pausing outside of Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment she took a moment and sifted through her purse. Four nights of payment meant she was currently in possession of 120 galleons, or had been until she’d spent two on tea and yogurt. But with 118 galleons she could certainly purchase a good deal of things that she would need for living in the house at Spinner’s End. She already had her school steamer trunk kept at Ginny’s, and could pick that up before heading to work later in the evening, and she supposed if she asked Molly there was probably furniture simply gathering dust in the attic at The Burrow. But she knew she would need a bed. She wondered how expensive beds were given that she had never had to purchase one before.

 

Hermione glanced through the large window of Wiseacre’s and after a moment decided that while they had a good many things a mattress, box spring and frame was not one of them. She turned her head left and then right looking further down the alley away from the more familiar shops and stalls. Wandering into the less traveled section of Diagon Alley she stopped in front of Flawtog and Flilwater’s Fine Furnishings, smiling as she gazed up at the antique wooden signs. She hoped they weren’t too fine lest she wouldn’t be able to afford them. Ducking into the shop she was immediately greeted by a tall thin salesman who looked more than eager to be assisting her.

 

“Looking for bedding, you say?”

 

“Well, a bed, actually, though I may browse your selection of bedding after I’ve selected a bed,” she told him, following him through rooms of furniture. There were indeed some very nice, and very strange, pieces of furniture scattered about the large shop, which was much larger on the interior than the exterior led on. Though this was often the case with most wizarding shops, Hermione never ceased to be amazed with it. She followed the salesman back into an enormous room filled with nothing but beds of every shape and size, some looking rather ordinary and some looking quite extraordinary with everything one could imagine in-between. It took her a moment just to take it all in. “We have quite a thorough selection, as you can see, and of course we have our custom order station just there in the back if you are unable to find something that suits your needs,” he said.

 

She nodded her thanks and slowly began to meander away from him, weaving her way through the scattering of beds. “Should you need anything, Miss, I’ll be just through here,” he pointed back into the room through which they’d come; filled with various sofas and chairs. Hermione waved her hand at him in understanding and then began to peruse the vast selection of beds. There were beds that looked brand new made of shiny metals and polished woods, and some that were carved from ancient trees that looked older than anything she’d ever seen— even older than some of the pieces at Hogwarts. There were small beds and large beds, some with posters and many without. Ornate carved headboards, headboards made of wrought iron, and a few that had no headboard at all. There were hover beds and beds with a hover option, water beds and feather beds— filled with everything from Puffskein fuzz to actual Hippogriff feathers— and a few mattresses of indeterminate origin. The choices were overwhelming.

 

A rather lovely bed caught her eye in the far corner of the room. It was simple, a birch wood headboard that curled up like a sleigh at the bottom and had slight hues of lavender stained into the grain. It looked very feminine. She smiled, the mattress was a double, not quite so large as a queen but not nearly as small as the bed in which Severus currently slept. Sinking down onto the mattress she sighed, it was soft but firm, giving in just the right places with her weight. The little floating tag was plucked easily from the headboard as she read about it. An enchanted memory foam mattress to curtail to every person’s body even the most restless of sleepers, high quality lavender polished used to seal the birch wood posts. It all seemed perfect. Hermione curled up onto the mattress and then sprawled out her arms and legs in a starfish position, pleased that everything remained on the bed.

 

She was almost afraid to flip the tag over and discover its price. No doubt something so lovely, even if it was rather plain by comparison to everything else in the room, would be costly. Much to her surprise it wasn’t nearly as expensive as she had imagined. 113 galleons would leave her all but skint, though she rationalized that she would receive another 30 that evening as they were due to continue testing. Five galleons would be enough to pop into the apothecary and pick up shampoo and conditioner and still leave her a few silver sickles. She debated on this for a long time, just laying on the mattress staring up at the ceiling. It was the return of the salesman that roused her from her thoughts.

 

“Fond of this one?” he asked, looking just the slightest bit displeased.

 

“Yes, it’s very comfortable,” she said with a sheepish grin and then sat up from the mattress. “And I like that it is simple. Beds are for sleeping in, after all.”

 

The salesman tried to hide his disappointment with a smile that turned into a rather unfortunate grimace. “Will you be purchasing this one then?” he asked, his tone of voice indicating that he knew full well the pittance of a price.

 

“I think so,” she smiled. She was not going to let the unhappy salesman talk her into something more expensive, even if he could provide her with a credit and a payment plan. It was the only major furniture she planned on purchasing, after all, Hermione was a thrifty witch.

 

Nearly a half hour had passed before she was finally out of the store with the bed shrunk properly and fitted into a large shopping bag, making her appear as if she’d bought nothing more than a few heavy books. It filled her heart with glee to know that for the first time she actually owned her own bed. The flat she had previously rented after her nasty breakup with Ron had come with the place and thus stayed with the place when she’d been kicked out. And previous to that her life on the lam had not afforded her any sort of actual bed, and before that had been the four-posters at Hogwarts. She was so excited over the prospect that she had completely forgotten about needing linens and things until she’d left the apothecary— with a bottle of lilac shampoo, herbal conditioner, mint body scrub, and a combination facial/body moisturizer and only 12 sickles remaining— and apparated to The Burrow. Molly was overjoyed to see her and welcomed her with a warm embrace.

 

Hermione returned the hug and was practically giddy as she followed the matriarch into her home. “Molly, I’ve a strange request…” she’d been calling her Molly ever since the woman had insisted she call her so, Hermione had never properly been able to bring herself to call the woman mom.

 

“Oh, of course,” she beamed. “You’re finally ready to move in? I’ve had Ginny’s old room ready for ages, Merlin oh me I thought you’d never ask!”

 

Hermione was rather shocked to hear her say these things but managed to hide this surprise well with an appreciative smile. “That is a terribly sweet offer,” she said and hugged the woman once more. “But I’ve actually just found another place, with a flat-mate, and I was wondering if I could take a poke through the attic to look for a few simple furnishings?”

 

Molly was more than surprised with Hermione’s news, and while they had never discussed the subject of Hermione losing her previous flat, the matriarch had always suspected something of the like. “Well…” she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “While I am a little disappointed that you won’t be staying here…you know you’re more than welcome to anything I’ve got lying around, you can even take a look in Ginny’s old room—”

 

“Oh, I’ll just poke about in the attic, wouldn’t want to disturb the guest room.”

 

Molly chuckled. “The guest room,” she rolled her eyes and set about with a large pot on the stovetop. “Bill’s room is the guest room. Percy’s room is the guest room. The twins’ room and Ron’s room is the guest room…I was saving Ginny’s room just for you,” she said with a bittersweet smile on her face. “If you see something in there you like just go ahead and take it, it won’t be getting much use elsewhere.” Hermione noted that she had purposefully left Charlie’s room out of the unending list of guest rooms and wondered if that meant that he had moved back home again. She didn’t ask as it was apparently a sore subject every time he was in residence.

 

“Thank you, Molly.”

 

“Oh no trouble, Hermione, but do promise me once you’ve had a look you’ll come down and have a proper lunch before you pop off to wherever you’re popping off to, yes?”

 

“Of course, Molly.” Hermione was so excited she nearly flew up the stairs, not stopping until she reached the third floor landing where Ginny’s room had been. The room that she had stayed in on the nights where she had stayed at The Burrow. It was a room furnished simply and she had always loved the large sweeping mirror that sat over the elongated bureau. Stepping into the room she beamed at her reflection who simply shrugged its shoulders back at her. “Perfect,” she said aloud to no one in particular. The mirror was an overlarge oval shape that extended outward and downward, and like all magical mirrors, had a lovely enchantment to keep her reflection active. It was with a great deal of difficulty that she struggled to get it down from the nail in the wall, realizing afterward that it was still upright and somehow attached to the bureau. The bureau itself was equally as lovely but she felt bad taking both of them. However a few spells and enchantments it seemed if she was to have the mirror she’d be having the bureau as well. The long wooden surface was stained white and ran three drawers across and three drawers down for a total of nine drawers, six shallow smaller drawers running across the top line of drawers. It was indeed a lovely piece of furniture.

 

Hermione managed a proper shrinking charm and with a bit of strain loaded the dresser and attached mirror into the bag with her newly purchased bed. It was exciting to think that she would finally have a place to store her clothing other than her enchanted purse and that she could stop using Mrs. Scour’s All-Purpose De-Wrinkling Spray. No matter how neatly she folded her clothes they always got jumbled up in the bottom of her never-ending purse. She glanced around the room and although she was quite taken with the sheer lacy pearl colored curtains she wasn’t even sure that her new room was going to have a window, so she didn’t bother with them. When she stepped back out into the hallway she was surprised to see Molly standing there with an empty laundry hamper. “Oh!” she cried and then smiled. “I’ve taken the dresser with the mirror; I do hope that’s alright.”

 

“Of course,” Molly smiled. “Better use with you than sitting in there collecting dust,” she beamed. “Besides, a woman’s room isn’t complete without a lovely place to store her things and a lovely mirror to remind her of how pretty she looks when wearing those things.” Molly brushed by her and stepped into Ginny’s old room. “I’m going through the closet, Ginny left all sorts of things behind when she and Harry got married, they’ve been here for ages and I sent her a howler a few weeks back telling her to get what she wanted or I was chucking the rest, of course I’d never actually chuck it out, I’d donate it, but you’re more than welcome to go through it— I could package it all up in this laundry basket and you could take it with you— what you don’t want you could just send to one of the donation bins.”

 

Hermione considered this for a moment. While Ginny was a much more slender girl, stick straight without the curves that Hermione possessed, clothing was not terribly difficult to alter if one was skilled with a wand. And unless Ginny had grown they had worn the same size shoe at Hogwarts. “Alright,” she said with a blush in her cheeks. “Thank you, that would be lovely.” She set her bag down for a moment, the weight of it beginning to tire her arm. “I’m just going to have a look up in the attic if that’s alright?”

 

“Fine, fine, anything up there you like— just not the dressmaker’s doll…aside from the fact that it’s falling apart I think it’s haunted, and possible booby trapped,” she said. “There are a few steamer trunks of towels and other linens that nobody uses around here anymore, take whatever you like— might even be some curtains too. Merlin knows Arthur has a world of muggle gizmos and gadgets up there in boxes, he won’t notice if you take some of those— in fact I’m encouraging you to take some. Give me some of my attic space back!” she called as she disappeared into Ginny’s old room. Hermione found herself laughing all the way up into the attic.

 

A few good blasts of her wand cleared away most of the dust and cobwebs and the loud thump her body made when she tripped over a rolled up rug scared away the poltergeist, at least for the moment. Hermione was amazed at the amount of things she saw in the Weasley attic, almost like being back in the never ending room of requirement. There were old apothecary chests and dressers, trunks and sofas, all sorts of things. But the thing that caught her eye the quickest was the bookshelf. It wasn’t fancy or even anything more than just some wooden planks screwed together into a wooden frame. That had been the hardest part about losing her flat, having to leave behind many of her books. Of course a good deal of her books had been lost when she’d erased her parents memories— the house ransacked and destroyed long after they were removed from it, but nearly everything she’d kept in her parents’ house had either been set on fire or stolen during the raid. There hadn’t properly been time to collect them when she had been on the run but after the war had ended here and there she picked up what she could; most of which were lost once more when she’d found herself out on the streets.

 

It didn’t matter that she no longer had enough books to fill the shelf; the only two books still in her possession being The Tales of Beedle the Bard and the unabridged copy of Hogwarts: A History that she’d purchased for her first year of school. Two was enough to warrant the bookcase and with some magic she shrunk it down and dropped it into the pocket of her jumper. A half-length scroll-top writing desk and matching wooden chair, along with a simple bedside table joined the bookcase in her pocket before she decided no more furniture for her room. That was until she spied the rather strange looking sofa. It was big and deeply squishy, nearly sucking her in when she sat down on it, the cushions and lining made out of some sort of velvet, despite being fairly worn. And the best part about it was the patchwork colors. It was absolutely hideous and she loved it. That was going to go into the living room whether he liked it or not. The thought of Severus’s facial expression upon seeing it sealed the deal for her, and into her pocket it went along with a plush squishy armchair and the rolled up rug she’d tripped over when she came up to the attic.

 

Hermione had spent a good hour picking out towels and sheets as well as a few pillows and even some lacy material that she could use as curtains if the room did in fact come with a window. There was even a box of dusty old books, what appeared to be mostly classical muggle literature that she was all too happy to take off Molly’s hands. Christmas had come early in the attic of The Burrow and Hermione was reaping the benefits, feeling slightly less guilty about it the more things she stumbled across. When she finally descended the stairs with her pockets practically overflowing Molly was all too eager to assist her in getting them packed properly into her shopping bag.

 

The ladies enjoyed a hearty lunch and Molly was all too sad to see Hermione go, but she explained that she needed to unpack her new things before evening as she had other plans. She failed to mention that those other plans involved being stark naked in front of her middle son while most likely being fucked by Severus Snape. A quick pop over to Ginny’s house and she had her steamer trunk from her school days; her final apparation taking her back to Spinner’s End. She frowned when she discovered the door was locked and desperately prayed that he had not changed his mind and tossed her out without telling her.

 

Knocking hesitantly on the door it was quite some time before he answered and when he did he looked displeased. “I had so hoped that you’d gone away,” he muttered letting her in, noting with a sneer that she held two oversized shopping bags, and that her steamer trunk was floating behind her. “Pity that wasn’t my luck.” Hermione ignored him and stepped into the sitting room, letting her trunk drop beside the makeshift sofa, both bags landing on its lumpy cushions. “And just what do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

 

“Well I suppose I’m going to unpack here in the living room,” she said and began to rifle through the bag Molly had packed with everything she’d found in Ginny’s closet.

 

“You most certainly will not, Miss Granger. Anything you’ve hauled into here needs to be kept in the room that you will be—”

 

“Well that will be this room until we create the room you intend to keep me in, which I’m more than happy to start creating now—”

 

“You will find,” he snapped at her, his eyes narrowing onto her as he did. “That the door opposite my bedroom will lead you to that room. Had you been here when I awoke this morning you would have been able to partake in its creation. If it is not to your liking, too bad.”

 

She should have been mad, but found that she was too excited to see the actual space to care if he was being flip. Leaving her bags and the steamer trunk in the living room she made her way down the hallway and pushed open the door across the hall from his. Hermione was surprised. The room was quite sizable; more than ample for the furniture she’d procured and there was even a window, if a bit small, that faced the backwoods of the property. She beamed from ear to ear and was grateful in that moment that her back was still to the doorway as he had followed her into the new room. “It’s perfect,” she said and then schooled her features so that she didn’t look quite so much like a child on Christmas morning, before turning around. “I’ve gotten some furnishings and a few for the living room as well.”

 

Severus narrowed his eyes once more at her. “The living room has no need for additional furnishings, the chair will suffice once it is turned back into a chair,” he growled.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “If I’m going to be living here, having someplace to sit other than the bed in my bedroom would be nice,” she said. “And it makes no sense to only have one chair,” she chided and then stepped back out of the room. Moving over to the bags on the makeshift couch, she plucked them up and with a wave of her wand the lumpy excuse of furniture was transfigured back into its high-backed state as a chair. She pushed it out of the way and began to dig in the furniture bag for the large squishy couch she’d found in the Weasley attic, plucking it and the mismatching armchair out, righting them to their original size. Severus looked appalled as he watched her rearrange them in front of the fireplace. And he turned up his nose when she unrolled the fluffy rug that could have been a hybrid between an oriental decorative piece and a shag carpet. “See?” she said.

 

“I wish I hadn’t,” he muttered and gazed at the garish sofa as if it might suddenly spark to life and attack him like a slobbering dog. “I shudder to even think on where you procured these—” he waved his hand in her general direction to halt her words. “On second thought I am positive that I do not wish to know.”

 

Again she found herself rolling her eyes. “We need to talk about food and the bathroom I suppose, but for now I’m just as happy to ignore you and go set about putting the bed and dresser in my room,” she said picking up her bags. Without a word he allowed her to walk into the hall and into her bedroom. She didn’t shut the door behind her but he didn’t follow, nor did she hear him slip into his own bedroom but for the moment she was content simply to arrange her room.

 

It took her nearly two hours to get everything returned to its proper size with the bed against the back wall the writing desk just near the window, the table near the bed the bookcase behind the door and the dresser on the opposite wall as the bed. She put her steamer trunk at the foot of her bed and beamed that everything seemed to be fitted in exactly the right place with just enough room for her to walk around. She transfigured the laundry basket into a proper hamper and tucked it into the corner near the dresser, she could sort through Ginny’s miscellaneous things later, a wand wave had them shrunk and sitting in a drawer inside the dresser. She was pleased as punch as she used her wand to tidy up the room, sending sheets onto the bed, pillows as well, a pair of lacy curtains to the window and the box of muggle classics to the bookshelf. With a bit more magic she affixed a hook to the back of the door and hung her bathrobe there, beside it her night robe and beside it a makeshift mesh tiered cage that she would use for showering. Hermione was thrilled with having a space all her own once more and flopped down on the bed, sighing in ecstasy.

 

The knock on the open door came as a surprise and she bolted upright. “Yes?” she said, having just finished putting her two personal books on the shelf. Her eyes focused on Severus who was standing in the doorway of her bedroom gazing about the room. “Can I help you?”

 

Severus let his lips tug into a smirk. “Not really a question you wish to be asking, Miss Granger, it is often said that you should not ask questions to which you truly do not wish to know the answer,” he said and then crossed his arms casually, albeit low, over his chest. “It’s nearly half five,” he said.

 

She had been prepared to make a quip about questions and answers when he reminded her of the time. It meant that they would be heading off to work soon. Such a funny concept; she and he now living together, heading off to work together. Work; if it could be called that, though she supposed it was the technical term as they were being paid for what they did behind the closed doors of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Just a very different industry of work, one she had not thought in a million years she would ever find herself in, though she supposed it was not so horrid and lurid as the pornographic industry. At least she wasn’t selling her body for sex in the sense that she was whoring out to a different stranger every night. Realizing that once again she’d become entangled in her own thoughts and that Severus was still standing in her doorway staring expectantly at her she stood from the bed and waved her hand at him. “I’m going to change and I’ll be right there.”

 

Severus didn’t say a word as he vacated her doorway, leaving her alone. She sighed and with a wave of her hand pulled the door shut so that she could change in the privacy of her own room. The dour gloom that he had trailed into the room with him vanished as she realized she had a room of her room, albeit under the most peculiar of circumstance. Hermione stood from her bed and shed her robes, jeans, and basic garments. It made no sense to wear things that were terribly restrictive as she would only end up taking them off. She realized with a frown that she’d worn her last clean bra and pair of knickers and had not yet started charming her laundry. Though now that she was living in a residence she supposed she would no longer have to. That was another thing that she would have to discuss with him after their shift at the workshop.

 

Hermione, temporarily lacking clean underthings decided that since most of the evening was spent either naked or in the robe George provided that she would simply throw a full length traveling cloak over her person and close it properly down the front. Out into the hallway and then into the sitting room she was annoyed but not surprised to find that he had left the house already and had most likely apparated to Diagon Alley.

 

Arriving at the Joke Shop she was only a few steps behind him and let herself in as George was helping the last of his customers toward the exit. “Glad you’re both here a few minutes early, if you want to head straight up and get ready we can get going as soon as I count up the till, I want to make up for wrapping up so early last night.” Hermione nodded at him and then headed up the staircase to the second floor of the shop, noting that Severus was already halfway up the stairs to the workshop. She didn’t rush to catch up with him but instead took her time on the steps, entering the workshop as he was stripping out of his boxers. She moved over to the hook and simply shrugged out of her traveling cloak, leaving her completely naked.

 

This earned her a quirked brow, but little more as he slipped into his robe and then handed her hers. “Thank you,” she said, not really sure what sort of reaction she had hoped for with her stunning reveal of a naked body underneath the cloak. But the moment had passed and she would never know as she put her own robe on and moved over to the work table. She hopped up on it and crossed her legs, swinging them back and forth.

 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, standing in front of her.

 

“About the D2?” she asked, flushing just slightly as she spoke the product’s name. “Yes, I suppose so, though I’m trying not to be.”

 

The warmth from the palm of his hand surprised her as he cupped her cheek, tilting her head upward so that she was looking up into his eyes. She felt herself leaning into his touch, her eyes falling closed for the briefest of seconds. But she forced her eyes open trying not to be too comfortable with him. For a moment she thought he was going to speak, give her some encouraging word or something but he said nothing, only held her gaze and then gently let his hand slip away from her face. Hermione flushed, feeling foolish for indulging in that intimate moment, an intimate moment that felt wildly out of place there in the workshop. She watched as he picked up the box that held the D2. “You first?” she asked, her voice sounding just a bit nervous.

 

He considered this for a moment and then nodded his head. Hermione slowly exhaled so that her sigh of relief wouldn’t be so audible. At least she had felt him inside of her, if only just the night before. And at least she knew he was somewhat malleable; though she knew it probably wasn’t the right word. The phallus she had witnessed George push into the sleeve of the novelty knickers seemed rigid and unyielding and that terrified her. She’d never been one for toys of a personal nature but had given a vibrating wand a go once. Her conclusion was that it was far too stiff and rigid for proper penetration and if the phallus that filled the sleeve was anything like that wand she imagined it would be none too pleasant inside her back door. But for the moment she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

 

Hermione slid down off the table and stood beside him, watching as he stepped into the thong, having adjusted the sleeve so that it was above his cock. She frowned. “You—”

 

“It will not be possible to do as we did last night,” his voice was low. And she realized that he was right. The work table was even smaller than his single mattress had been and it would be impossible to fit both of them atop it without one of them landing on the floor. Her eyes were uncertain as she questioned him silently. “If you ride atop my lap the phallus can be in the front, thus on top, giving you what you requested.” He paused and let his lips quirk into a half smirk. “Me first.”

 

She tried not to blush at his dirty comment but to no avail. The warmth that flooded her cheeks was also flooding her loins; something dreadfully arousing about him talking as he was, and there wasn’t even anything really dirty about what he had said. It was how he had said it that gave her a rise. “Ok,” she whispered and watched as he began to fiddle with the phallus, adjusting it. She noted that while the thong fit him well he was still flaccid. “Did you…” her voice trailed off, her cheeks stinging more brightly than before. “Erm, nevermind,” she whispered, drawing her eyes away from his crotch.

 

He had raised a brow at her and then stared at her silently for several minutes. “If you were about to ask did I need assistance, Miss Granger…” he shook his head in a disapproving manner and clucked his tongue. “Surely you’ve noticed that I’ve managed without you before?”

 

If he was trying to bruise her ego she was determined not to let it get to her. Then again she had played quite the trick on him with the cloud panties, insisting that he be tested as well. She supposed that made them even but she wasn’t so sure if she was willing to give up their little game just yet. Even if she was playing it by herself all in her head. Hermione nodded and then turned her back to him, pausing before she let the robe slide down her shoulders, catching it halfway so that the upper half of her naked back was exposed to him. She turned around, baring her breasts in front of him, the chill of the workshop bringing her nipples to stiff peaks. “Do you think he has a lubricant?”

 

For a moment she watched his eyes; the way they gazed first at her face and then dropped slowly down taking in her breasts. If he was doing anything other than studying them she couldn’t tell. There was no lust smoldering in his eyes, no licking of the lips, or salivating over them. She did note, however, that he’d brought his hand to his cock and began to firmly stroke himself; whether he’d begun that while her back was to him or after she’d shown him her breasts she couldn’t be certain. “Even if he does, Miss Granger, I wouldn’t trust a lubricant in this workshop as far as I could throw it,” he nodded his head to his robes. “In the front pocket of my frock coat.”

 

Hermione let her robe slide off her body completely and she laid it on the table before walking over to his frock coat and retrieving the tube of lubricant. It didn’t’ seem like anything special though from the faint smell of it she could tell it was what he had used on her night before. Images flitted through her mind of the way he’d stroked her and then massaged it into the taut muscles of her anus. A flood of warmth formed between her legs as she vividly remembered these sensations; the intimacy he had allowed her for the sake of her comfort, the way their bodies had pressed together making her tingle with desire. Bringing it back to him she tried to keep her fingers from trembling as she placed the tube in her hand.

 

The door from the shop opening into the workshop startled her but his firm hand on her shoulder kept her from jumping out of her skin. George walked over carrying a stack of boxes. “What in Merlin’s name is all that?” she asked.

 

“These,” he said with a grin as he set the boxes down on the work table, “Are the first batch of products that are labeled, marketed and just about ready for sale.” He was grinning his lopsided grin from ear to ear, so wide that it looked like it might stretch off his face. “Just the nipple creams, but I wanted to show them to you guys in their fancy boxes before I set them out in the morning…just a test run to see if there’s an interest, which I am very much hoping there is or we’ll be doing this all for naught…”

 

Hermione picked up one of the boxes, noting its sleek design and the way it looked slightly naughty but in a very tasteful way. “Oh, George, these are actually quite brilliant!” she squealed, her excitement knowing no bounds in that moment.

 

George stacked them up neatly and then turned his eyes to Severus. “Well what do you think?”

 

Severus shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m not purchasing any of these products,” he said and then examined one of the boxes. “Although I imagine if it pleases her it will please the vast majority of your every day witch.”

 

She would have taken it as an insult if he hadn’t sounded so dreadfully serious when he said it. Once again clinically assessing the situation. Hermione hid her smile as she turned to face George. “At any rate I think they’ll be fine, are you putting them up tomorrow?” she asked.

 

“I had planned on it, though maybe I’ll wait ‘til after the weekend,” he shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll see how busy it is early tomorrow morning.” Gathering up the boxes he lined them up carefully and then carried them back across the workshop to what looked like a makeshift shopping cart. “All ready to go,” he said and then moved back to them. “Are you two ready to pick up where we left off? D2 I think, and then we can go through the rest of that lingerie box and see if any of it is worth a look?”

 

Hermione nodded her head, though her stomach was flipping itself inside and out. She tried not to be nervous, she tried not to worry about the pressure or the pain and that George would be watching. He had never been anything but professional; albeit extremely aloof; gazing on them and their interactions solely for the purpose of learning about the product they were testing. “You said we should test it both ways, right?” her voice squeaked a bit so she cleared her throat trying to sound as if she had a tickle and not a bout of tightly wound nerves that were about to burst through her chest.

 

“Yeah, Severus mentioned it and I think it’s a good idea, I suppose it doesn’t matter which you do first, but if this works out and isn’t too awkward or problematic, I think that we may really be onto something here.” He paused a moment and drew up the ledger. “Who knew my brother was such a perv? Bloody genius, but an absolute perv,” he smirked and then sat down on the stool beginning to draw up his quill and inkpot.

 

She couldn’t stall much longer regardless of how nervous she was. Nodding her head at Severus, she moved toward him and eyed the stool beneath the work table, pulling it out with trembling fingers. “You transfigure that into a chair, like the one we used when testing the Hufflepuff condom, and I will get you ready,” he said. Hermione could feel herself clenching without meaning to as she wandlessly and wordlessly transfigured the stool into a suitable chair. It looked wider than it had when he’d transfigured it the day before and she couldn’t discern if she’d done that intentionally or not. Glancing back over her shoulder she bit her lower lip and stepped back toward him, feeling both of his palms cupping the cheeks of her ass.

 

“Be right back,” George said standing suddenly from his stool and dashing across the workshop to the stairs that led up to his flat. He was gone before Hermione could ask where he was going.

 

“I can’t do this,” she whimpered, turning panicked eyes to Severus.

 

Firm hands touched her shoulders and spun her back around so that her backside was facing him once more. “You did it last night,” he said and then pressed the length of his body forward against her; letting his chest rest against her back. Hermione drew in a trembling breath as she felt his lips brush against her neck. “You just need to relax, think about last night.” His voice was that same intimate whisper it had been in his bedroom and that nearly swept her away. His hands drifted down her body and she felt her spine arching backward against him, the heat between their bodies easing her a bit. “That’s right,” each word pressed his lips against the pulse point in her neck and she felt her body practically melting into him.

 

Those firm hands kneaded at the flesh of her bum for several seconds before gently pushing them apart, one finger stroking up and down between her crack, the other hand opening the lubricant. It felt warmed as it had the night before; the way his finger circled around her anus, coated liberally in the stuff making her tremble again. But she closed her eyes, concentrating on the way his breath fell against her neck, the way the soft tendrils of his hair brushed against the tops of her shoulders. Unbidden images from the previous night drifted behind her eyes, the way she had twisted her head back and gazed up into his eyes, the way she’d found such a trust in them. These images swirled in her mind and she felt her body easing up; she felt the muscles slackening a bit as he prodded his finger at her, pressing it into the taut ring of muscles and gently stretching her opening.

 

He shifted his body back, “Come on,” he whispered and then moved around in front of her to sit in the chair. Severus gazed up at her expectantly and then reached his arms forward and gently gripped her hips. “You can do this.”

 

Hermione stepped forward and her legs were shaking as she stood straddling over his legs. “I…” her voice died in her throat when she heard the door to the flat close, followed by George’s footsteps on the stairs. “Oh, Severus—”

 

“You can do this,” he repeated, his voice much softer, his hand now gingerly cupping her mound, his thumb deftly slipping between her folds and nudging at her clit. She jumped slightly but stayed where she was, biting her lower lip as she tried to focus. His touch; it was always his touch that was driving her wild and for a moment she let that sensation fill her. The way his thumb seemed to know exactly how to flick at her clit, know exactly where it was and how much she needed it touched. That helped her body ease as she settled her lap down atop his thighs. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d stayed hard while prepping her, both his cock and the phallus completely upright with the phallus pressing against his stomach and his cock resting against the phallus.

 

“You guys all set?” George asked, returning with a fresh notebook tucked under his arm. He took his place on the stool. “This one was getting close to full and I don’t want to keep making notes over top of all Fred’s original stuff, may actually have to go back and be able to read some of it.” George paused looking from Severus to Hermione. “Everything alright?”

 

Hermione felt a knot forming in her throat but Severus spoke before she had to. “She’s merely preparing herself, Mr. Weasley, it’s a delicate experience.”

 

“Oh, of course!” George seemed nonplused by this bit of information and took to scribbling in the new notebook without hesitation.

 

She let her head fall forward for a moment, resting her forehead against his shoulder, reveling in the contact for as long as she thought he would allow her. Hermione lifted her head and gazed into his eyes, an unspoken glance of gratitude passing between them as she shifted her hips a bit, feeling both of his hands firmly gripping either side of her. She exhaled and then gripped his shoulders, lifting herself up so that she could properly press both the phallus and his cock against her entrance. She noted as she gazed down into his lap that the phallus was a few inches shorter than his cock and a faded smile crossed her lips. He had adjusted the toy so that she would be able to sink onto his cock first, letting herself ease down onto him and control the pace of him entering her before the phallus would slide up into her womanhood. For that she was beyond grateful.

 

Already she could feel her body struggling against the swollen tip of his cock as she eased herself back down against him, but she forced her mind to focus on his touch. His hands; the way they gripped her, firmly and reassuring. She gazed into his eyes and could see him gazing back at her, intently keeping her stare with his as she felt him push upward just enough to push the head of his cock past the taut ring of muscles. Hermione swallowed back a whimper as her fingernails dug into his shoulders trying to keep from sliding down the length of his cock and fully impaling herself too quickly. But the firm grip of his hands on her hips kept her from doing exactly that. She tried to ease up on her grip, not having meant to have marked his flesh with the little half-moon marks as she had. But if he minded or even noticed he showed no sign, never once breaking eye contact with her.

 

And then she felt it again; the tingling in her lungs and realized she’d been holding her breath. His voice from the night before came creeping back into her mind. Your muscles are more at ease when you breathe. Hermione exhaled and then drew in a breath, trying to focus on her lungs contracting and expanding. It helped and she could feel her muscles unclenching around him, his cock filling her a bit more as she started to sink down against him. She could feel the phallus pressing against her mound, not quite properly lined up at her entrance and she clenched the walls of her anus ever so slightly, feeling him respond by holding her firmly in place. One trembling hand left his shoulder and she guided the phallus gently until it rested at her entrance and then slowly she closed her eyes and then felt herself sinking down onto the phallus as well as his cock.

 

Hermione moaned; the sound caught halfway between a whimper and a cry as she felt herself experiencing double penetration for the first time. “Oh fuck,” she cried, unable to help herself as she slid further down, feeling him fill her even more fully than he had the night before. She could feel the phallus inside of her, not nearly as pleasant as if he were filling her but it created such a tight sensation she felt as if she were about to burst. Hermione sobbed, throwing her head forward as her body trembled, overwhelmed with sensations.

 

“Is she alright?” George asked, lifting his head from the ledger, the slightest look of concern on his face.

 

“She’s fine,” Severus said. “This is the sound you want a woman to make…generally speaking,” he said and then released her right hip. Bringing his hand up he tugged her chin back up from his shoulder and gazed into her eyes. “You are alright,” he whispered, though whether or not George heard she couldn’t say. All she could focus on in that moment was the intense sensation of being filled by him and the phallus and how she felt she was literally going to erupt. But his eyes were steady as they gazed into hers and she nodded, stifling another sob of mingled painful pleasure. It wasn’t so much pain as it was pressure and fullness and dizziness, and she gasped in a lungful of air, the dizziness going away almost immediately.

 

“I’m alright,” she repeated softly and then leaned her forehead against his cheek. “It’s just…ooh gods…” she moaned, feeling him shift slightly beneath her, just a slight swivel of his hips in the upward motion. She wasn’t sure she could take a full on fucking being filled in both of her holes. It would kill her though she would most likely die happy. She couldn’t stop her muscles from clenching against him and the phallus, her body going wild trying to compensate for being so full, drawing them in further or all the way, anything but the current standstill at which she’d arrived; completely full and teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t describe.

 

“Severus, there’s a note here about dual sensation,” George said idly, flipping the pages in the green ledger book. “Are you feeling anything unusual?”

 

“Aside from her clenching like mad,” he said through gritted teeth. “It feels like anal sex,” he said and then tipped his head back slightly.

 

Hermione saw it; that hint of disruption in his resolve and for some reason it made her body ease up. The heavy sigh that he panted when her muscles temporarily stopped clenching him made her wriggle just a bit. While she was in no position to toy with him it had made her feel as if they were on equal playing fields for the moment, he no longer her sexual tour guide and she no longer some lost puppy that needed instruction. For that one minute where his brow had creased and he’d glanced up at the ceiling she had felt as if she were astride a man with sexual needs rather than the clinically detached man with whom she’d been working. And despite all of their intimacies the night prior during her preparation, she had never felt more close to him than she had in that moment presently, filled by him and watching him crack under the strains of pleasure.

 

“Well it says that there’s supposed to be some sort of stimulant…” George was still fingering his way through pages when Hermione turned her head to glance at him. “Something about two cocks, but ah well…I can always have a look at it later. Hermione, how does it feel?”

 

“Fucking amazing,” she panted, not giving a rat’s ass how lewd and wanton she sounded. The pressure was still there and the feeling of being stretched to the point of breaking was still present, but there was just something utterly satisfying about it and coupled with the way she’d seen him just then that made her feel high; pleasantly bathed in the waves of ecstasy even if she was nowhere near a climax.

 

George chuckled. “Well, then,” he grinned a bit. “Good to know,” he scratched a few notes in the ledger. “Give it a go and see if the phallus holds up without slipping out of the sleeve or out of her, and we’ll go from there.”

 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to go about getting started but Severus seemed to have the answer. Once again his hands were on her hips and she felt herself leaning forward, her pelvis gyrating slightly as she was lifted upward. “Oooh, fuck!” she hissed feeling her walls clenching at the loss as he pulled her upward. Even though she was still filled in both orifices her body was desperate to remain that way and clenched against his cock and the phallus making it an extremely tight pull before she felt herself sliding back down the dual lengths, a moan echoing in her ear that was not her own.

 

Her eyes were only half-lidded but she could clearly see the strain on his face as he tried to keep from vocalizing what an effect her clutching muscles were having on him. Hermione arched her hips up and then sank down again, slowly at first, taking control of riding both his cock and the phallus. The silky slickness of his cock felt wonderful inside of her ass and she was thoroughly soaking the phallus with her own arousal. While the phallus was stiff it was not nearly as stiff as the vibrating wand she had once experimented with had been. It was not nearly as accommodating as Severus’ cock and she did not imagine it would be pleasant in her ass; not as pleasant as he felt anyway. While she couldn’t say that she definitely liked anal sex, feeling him as he was in that moment was definitely giving her the impression that she could grow to like it, at least with him anyhow. It wasn’t something that she could ever see herself asking for, but for all the desperate sounds he seemed to be choking off in the back of his throat, she would let him have her in that way if he so desired. Especially if his cock was going to feel like heated slick silk every time he was inside of her.

 

That thought stream paralyzed her and she felt her muscles clench tightly around him, eliciting a hiss from his lips. Why on earth had she been thinking about whether or not he would want such a thing from her. Images of the way his body had lined so perfectly against hers in his bed the previous night were flitting suddenly through her mind and her pulse began to race. “Stop, stop, stop,” she whispered, trying to force those thoughts from her mind.

 

Severus held still beneath her, not that he’d been moving much, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Are you in pain?” he asked, his voice clearly strained.

 

“No, no, sorry, I’m fine,” she whimpered. “I don’t know what came over me,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. How very embarrassed she would feel if George were actually listening to the words coming out of her mouth. But he was thankfully distracted with scribbling away in the new notebook, leaving Hermione and Severus on their own mid fuck-session.

 

“Then why did you cry out to stop?” he gritted his teeth feeling her muscles clenching against him once more.

 

Hermione shook her head and then leaned her cheek against his, her lips against his ear. “I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to help herself as she began to gyrate up and down in his lap. She needed the friction that sliding up and down had caused. She could feel a pressure building inside of her; the way she felt so full, practically feeling his cock pushing against the phallus as she quickened her pace. Where before there had been hesitation now she felt only need, her eyes closed as she worked her hips up and down, his strangled breaths and desperate attempts to remain silent only encouraging her. She could feel him losing the firm hand he had on his control, the way his body undulated beneath her, the way her body gyrated atop him; their bodies working together to achieve a common goal: pleasure.

 

Thoughts be damned, her mind was flooded with the memory of the passionate kiss he’d bestowed upon her the first night she’d sought him out; the way his tongue had practically waged war in her mouth, so fierce and so intense. With that sensation echoing in her head her body began to heat even quicker than before and she began to bounce up and down the length of his cock, the phallus slamming up deep into her vagina as she rode his lap, grinding her hips against his pelvis. “Ooh, ooh….oooh” she whimpered, each downward thrust of her body bringing his pelvis into contact with her clit, adding a third layer of stimulation to her pleasure.

 

She could feel that steep cliff peaking within her; drawing closer and closer with each downward thrust, her fingers gripping so tightly to his shoulders that she thought they might break. But in that moment she didn’t care; not for her fingers not for his shoulders, only that she needed to come, needed to burst with pleasure from being so fully filled. Hands were on her back, stroking her or clutching at her, she couldn’t tell and she didn’t care. She knew they were his; his control slipping from him. She was taking his control from him but her mind had gone primal and her need usurped her cognition. Hermione was rocking faster in his lap, up and down, frantic as she whimpered and mewled, the occasional growl of his mingling with her lusty sounds.

 

And then she felt it; the erupting pleasure that she had been waiting for. Her clit was pulsing, her walls were clamping the phallus, her anus was clenching furiously around him and her body was shuddering, every inch of her being on fire with sheer ecstasy. Heat erupted inside of her, and not just her own climax but she felt him shudder, harder than she’d ever felt him shudder before and a soft strangled cry escaped his lips as he came, his chest heaving up and down against hers. Her body went limp against him and she felt his arms fall slack down her back, their hearts beating fiercely inside their chests, which were pressed together with a thin sheen of sweat between them.

 

Never in her life had she anticipated such an orgasm, and certainly not from anal sex. Though she realized as the lusty fog cleared her mind that it had been so much more than anal sex. Quickly trying to regain her composure she sat up straight in his lap, lifting her hips up until she was freed from both his slowly deflating cock and the phallus. Hermione settled herself on his thighs, still breathing quite hard, searching his eyes for some sort of sign. She didn’t know what she would find there, and seeing the swirls of unreadable black emotions frustrated her. She couldn’t identify whatever it was he was feeling and as quickly as she’d seen it was as quickly as it had vanished, Severus once more looking stoic and calm, despite having been anything but just a moment before.

 

“Well…” George, who was flushed bright pink in the cheeks tried not to look smug. “I’ll take that as satisfactory then? Product works well? I’m guessing you’ll both want a few minutes before we test it the other way round?”

 

Before Hermione could say that she might need a few hours before such a thing could occur she felt Severus pushing her back from his lap. She stumbled to her feet and looked slightly affronted but realized why as soon as she had her bearings. “I do not believe we will be testing it the other way around, Mr. Weasley, the sleeve appears to have torn,” he said and then stood, sliding the thong down his legs to remove it. As he had said there was a gaping hole in the sleeve that had previously held the phallus and she realized that it had only stayed in place because she had been riding atop him.

 

George looked dreadfully disappointed, his frown taking up his whole face. “Well bollocks to that then,” he muttered and drew his wand. Waving it at the thong the garment and the phallus disappeared. Hermione hoped wherever they’d been banished to that George would take to thoroughly cleaning them before trying to make any repairs. “Well,” he said after a moment, flipping through the ledger. “There’s still a bunch of garments and things to go through in the hatbox before we move on.”

 

Hermione nodded. “A small break might not be bad though,” she suggested, having picked up her discarded robe and put it on. “Just some water and a minute or two to rest,” she added.

 

“I think I can manage that,” he said. “I’ll run up to the flat and get you some water. Any for you, Severus?”

 

Severus shook his head, still leaning in the chair, cock slick with lubricant, though no longer rigid. George departed their company and when she was sure he was up inside the flat she stepped over to him and looked at him properly. “I’m sorry— I don’t know what came over me,” she said sheepishly.

 

He waved his hand dismissively at her. “It is of little consequence.”

 

“You just seemed like you—”

 

“Like I what, Miss Granger?” he asked. Severus stood from the chair and picked up his own robe, drawing it around his figure. There was a breeze that swept across her and she shivered, realizing that he’d cast a cleansing charm upon them both, leaving her warm and dry as if she’d just come from the bath. “I am fine,” he drew the tie of his robe around his waist. “I do not need you worrying yourself over me,” he said simply and then added. “Unless you’ve suddenly contracted something between last night and now that I should be aware of.”

 

“No!” she cried looking thoroughly embarrassed. “No,” she repeated more softly. “I— oh nevermind,” she huffed.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “No discomfort or excessive soreness, I take it?” he asked.

 

Hermione shook her head, not trusting herself enough to provide a verbal answer. The man at the best of times could be trying, but in that moment he was being an outright ass. But she didn’t have time to mull it over as George came bounding back down the stairs with a bottle of water, tossing it to her. She caught it against her body but smiled at him nonetheless, popping off the top and taking a gulp. Cool water ran down her throat and she suddenly felt normal as if all the heat that had built up inside of her was so easily cured by a splash of hydration. “Alright, what next then?” she asked.

 

George gestured to the box. “Have a look at the rest of the stuff in the hatbox, pull out what you like and I’ll see if we have notes for it.”

 

Reaching her hand into the hatbox the first thing her fingers touched was a bright yellow sash made of satiny silk. Pulling it out of the box she stared at it for a long moment. She never had been able to tell the difference between silk and satin. “It looks like a silk scarf,” she said and then twirled it around her fingers. “Doesn’t seem to be anything special,” she shrugged and then quickly dropped it, watching it float to the work table as the memory of the Tricky Handy Panties popped to mind. “Any idea what it might be?” she asked, turning her head to look at George. Tentatively she plucked it up once more and brought it to her cheek, it was indeed soft.

 

The sound of flipping pages filled the workshop but after several searches he turned up nothing. Severus, who had not moved from the chair after having donned his robe shrugged his shoulders, “Perhaps it is an unfinished product…or simply meant to be a scarf.”

 

“I suppose,” said George. “Though that doesn’t seem like Fred at all…there must be something somewhere…ah! Here!” he shouted, jamming his finger against the page. “Sexy Silks,” he said and then frowned. “Use these lengths of silks— yellow, purple, green, black, red— to bind your partner to the bed. Silks self-binding.”

 

“Self-binding?” Hermione asked, setting the yellow scarf down once more. She turned her attention to the box and began to rummage through its contents. It did not take her long to realize that the hatbox was enchanted in a similar fashion to her purse, much bigger on the inside. As she shifted things about she caught a glimpse of something that looked silky and purple. Tugging it out from the box revealed a twin to the yellow scarf only this one was in a rich shade of violet, and felt lighter against her hand. “Two down three to go,” she said aloud though more to herself than to either of the men. It took her a few more minutes of rummaging but she was eventually able to produce the earthy green and pitch black silk scarves from within the depths of the box. Despite her best efforts she could not put her hands on a red silk scarf and after a few more thorough searches; she gave up on its existence. “Well?” she asked, looking back to George. “Any idea how we activate them?”

 

George rose from the stool. “I’ve no idea, there’s nothing in the ledger about them, but my guess is going to be there probably needs to be something to bind the person to…I don’t think the work table will really do, though—” he paused mid sentence his eyes going wide. “I think I’ve got it. Can you two transfigure the table, well I mean you don’t have to, it just might be more comfortable for whoever’s going to be tied to it,” he said with a goofy grin and then dashed off to the other side of the workshop. Returning a moment later, George made his way to the table with four long PVC pipes tucked under his arm. “I think if we place one of these at each of the corners of the table with a little transfiguration we can have ourselves a right four-poster bed!” he exclaimed.

 

The idea was a rather brilliant one and within minutes there was a makeshift four-poster bed where the work table had been. Why on earth she hadn’t thought to mention such a thing before as she was the one that had spent the majority of the time up on the cold marble surface, she couldn’t fathom, but they had it now. And going forward she was going to insist they use it to keep her from excessive discomfort. She stood, still in her robe, with Severus standing beside her, gazing at the bed that now looked very similar to the single mattress in his bedroom, only this version had four-posters, one at each corner.

 

“Alright, Severus why don’t you lie down. You’re a good bit stronger than Hermione, I reckon, no offense, Hermione,” he added hastily. “So you would be ideal to test these if they really are meant to bind you up and keep you tied down for a kinky game.”

 

There was something about the way George said kinky game that made her snort, which she quickly covered by coughing into her hand, but not before Severus narrowed his eyes at her. That seemed to irk him but he was difficult to read so she tried to ignore it as he slowly took of his robe and sat on the edge of the bed. Severus brought his legs up and then reclined back into the makeshift mattress, lying flat on his back with his legs together and his arms at his side.

 

“And do I just…” Hermione frowned as her voice trailed off. “What, toss them on him and see if they bind him up?” she said. George shrugged having as much of a clue as she did. With a sigh she picked up the yellow scarf, the one she had touched first in the box, and then laid it across his mid section, stepping back as if she expected it to suddenly explode. “Well that was exciting,” she said after a moment of absolutely nothing happening. Severus remained stone still on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling, his naked body exposed. “Anything?” she asked, as if he might somehow feel something she couldn’t see. He shook his head no and remained quiet. “George, let me see that book. Maybe they need some sort of spell or enchantment or you have to say a trigger word or something.”

 

“Be my guest, but I’ll warn you, he’s got crude doodles everywhere and his handwriting is little more than chicken scratch,” said George, gesturing to the ledger.

 

Hermione, who was still wearing her robe, stepped over and picked up the ledger, thumbing through the pages one at a time. There were indeed crude drawings in the margins, and all over the rest of the pages, but she had to admit Fred had been a very talented, albeit graphic, artist. It was the picture of a wanton woman on the bottom of a page near the back that caught her eye. A buxom blonde that was winking at her. There was something off about the picture, the way she wore purple garters around her thighs, black bracelets sketched in over her wrists, the corset that did not at all contain her breasts looking as if it were drawn out of green ribbon. Hermione grinned. “I think your brother left you a picture message,” she said noting the little yellow bows on the side of the corset and the red laces that held her stilettos in place.

 

George leaned over Hermione’s shoulder and looked at the drawing. “Well she does have all the same colors of the scarves,” he said thoughtfully and then twisted the ledger sideways. “It says, tugs ends,” he pointed to a miniscule scribble just beneath the red stiletto the sketched woman was wearing.

 

“Tug ends?” Hermione’s brow furrowed. She handed the ledger back to George. “Alright.” Severus, who had remained on the makeshift bed with the yellow scarf still draped over his stomach turned his head to the side and caught her gaze. “I think we figured out how to activate the self binding element of these scarves, though I’ve rightly no idea what they do.” She had an inkling that Fred had clued them in by the strategic placement of the drawing but beyond that she couldn’t say. She really hoped that the green ribbon didn’t magically bind him into a corset, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep a straight face if it did.

 

Picking up the long yellow scarf she held each end in one hand and then tugged until the material was taut. As she slacked her grip the scarf began to wriggle, causing her to drop it onto his torso. If the moving scarf stunned him or even surprised him he gave no indication, simply laying there, eyes now focused down the length of his chest, watching. Hermione watched in fascination as the yellow scarf grew longer and longer, slipping over his torso in both directions, sliding ends under the joints of thighs, wrapping around and covering his cock from sight. It was truly magic, watching the length of silky yellow fabric wend its way around his body, moving of its own enchantment. When the scarf stopped moving, Severus’s arms were pinned loosely at his side, his manhood well covered and just at his pelvis was a large intricate yellow bow.

 

George was grinning wildly. “It’s wrapped him up!” he cried.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “This looks ridiculous.”

 

“Actually,” Hermione quirked her lips to the side. “You look like a present,” she said and then nodded at the bow atop the intricate layers of wrapping. “A special present that a lover could unwrap if he or she so desired…” her fingers were twitching at her side, desperate to pull the bow and see what happened. “Can I, George?” she asked, nodding at the bow over Severus’ pelvis.

 

“Is it restraining, Severus?” he asked, completely ignoring Hermione.

 

Severus shifted his arms outward, trying to push past the yellow ribbon but they seemed to struggle against him, keeping him in place. “It would appear so,” he said and then did the same with his legs, trying to push them apart only to find that he could not.

 

George, who had pulled the stool up alongside the makeshift bed, was once again scratching away in the new notebook. “Great, alright, Hermione, you can open your present.”

 

He said it so innocently but it still made her blush. She refused to look Severus in the eye as she leaned over his body and took up the fancy bow in her hands. The scarf was wrapped so well around his crotch that he could have been raging in full on hardness or completely flat and she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. The thought that he could be sporting an erection made her body flush, little tingles shooting up through her loins and she was very glad that she was still wearing her robe. Tugging gently at either of the bow she watched as it slowly began to unravel, still keeping his arms bound and his legs together. She bit her lower lip in anticipation, again fascinated by the way the scarf moved all on its own, untangling from around his pelvis just enough to reveal his manhood.

 

She licked her lips, a little less than subconsciously, noting that the texture of the scarf, or perhaps the prospect of being bound, had indeed been enough to give him a little rise. He wasn’t fully aroused as she’d seen and felt he could be, but it was enough and it thrilled her. Severus, however, remained as stoic as ever, eyes gazing upward at the ceiling. “Can you push free of the remaining wrapping now that I’ve freed you?” she asked, her voice a bit lower than she’d intended.

 

He gazed at her curiously for a moment, lifting his head enough to catch her eye, and then shifted his arms, pulling them out easily from the unraveled scarf. “So it would seem.” Severus sat up, spreading his legs a bit, the scarf falling on either side of him and slowly beginning to shrink back to its original length. “Novel,” he muttered.

 

“That’s really clever,” George said and then waved his hand in a circular gesture; one Hermione had come to understand meant continue. “There are three others?”

 

“Yes, since we couldn’t find the red one,” she said and then picked up the black one. “I think we should try black next.”

 

George nodded his head. Hermione picked up the yellow scarf and set it to the side, placing her hand on Severus’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t brush her away either. While she didn’t think that the yellow ribbon had been particularly humiliating she couldn’t imagine that he was pleased with being the one splayed out. Though up to that point most of the test products had befallen her and after the atrocity with the spray can of fur she figured that a little embarrassment on his end wouldn’t kill him. Of course, in her mind she doubted very much if the man felt things like embarrassment, half the time she was convinced he didn’t feel anything at all. She tried not to think about the way he’d cracked under the pressures of her clenching anus and the chilly sensations of the clouds. A wicked notion of somehow combining the two flitted briefly into her mind before she dismissed it, intent to focus on the black scarf she now held in her hands.

 

Taking the ends as she had with the yellow scarf she tugged the black one and it immediately shot out of her grip, splitting before her very eyes into four equally long black silk scarves. They were flying toward Severus at an alarming rate, swiveling tightly around each of his ankles and wrists. Once they had wrapped several times around his skin, creating a wide stripe of scarf effectively around each appendage they spun back and wrapped firmly around the makeshift four posters of the bed. Hermione stared, stunned as he was pulled into a semi-spread eagle position, arms stretched outward above his head and his legs now thoroughly parted.

 

She watched him struggle, tugging first his left arm and then his right. “Oh my!” she cried. As he tried to pull himself free the scarves pulled his arm further out away from his body, dragging him closer to the posters to which he was now bound. His legs flailed for a moment, a bit more so than his arms, and a sharp intake of breath caught in her throat as she watched his legs draw wide apart, lifting his hips just slightly off the bed. “Stop— don’t struggle against them they might rip you in half,” she said, her voice a mingled cry of concern and deeply fascinated curiosity. While she didn’t want to see any harm befall him, the idea of seeing him so completely helpless in that moment was truly tempting.

 

And it appeared that she wasn’t the only one turned on by it. She noted that his erection had gone from half hard to full rigidity and again she found herself licking her lips. He would not meet her eyes as she moved close to him, strain clearly written across his face. It appeared that the more they worked with in the workshop the more she was discovering about his repressed sexuality, and while she imagined he didn’t want her to know any of it, she was loving every minute of it.

 

“They appear to restrain the target quite solidly,” his teeth were gritted as they had been when she’d been clenching on his cock and she could see the way his brow furrowed as he closed his eyes trying to draw in steady breaths, an attempt to regain his composure. “Now undo them.” His last command was barked and it surprised her all the more.

 

“Are you in pain?” George asked. “Are they too tight?”

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows up on her forehead, wondering if they in fact were too tight or if he would lie and say they were just to simply get out of his current predicament. She watched his eyes closely as he opened them, gazing right at her. “No, they are not too tight, Mr. Weasley, however, you’ve seen what they’re meant to do, I simply wish to move on.”

 

Her eyes sparkled, as if to say well played, but she made no other indication that she had called his bluff. They didn’t look tight at all, and when she touched her fingers to his wrist twisting it slightly to the left and the right, it seemed to move just fine. She had no doubt that it was enchanted to keep him from breaking free, but after all silk scarves weren’t meant to be instruments of torture; at least not the physical kind. Hermione sat down just beside his chest, her thigh brushing against his armpit as she leaned over his left wrist and began to tug at the ribbon’s end, which was fastened to the bedpost. Her fingers slipped right off as if the scarf were suddenly made of grease. She frowned but rubbed her fingers on her robe before trying again only to find that she could not grip the scarf to save her life. “George, it won’t let me touch it to undo it.”

 

She could have sworn she heard a grunt of disgust from Severus but when she turned her eyes to look down on his face he was once again staring blankly up at the ceiling. Hermione allowed herself a moment to simply take him in, letting her eyes rake down his body; the way the scarves had him spread making him look indeed both helpless and very hot. It sent a shiver up her spine which she tried to ignore. Leaning her head down over his body, her curls brushing against his neck she placed her lips just at his ear. “I have to say that this is a really attractive look for you,” she whispered. And then she blushed, pulling her head up, feeling horribly lewd for having confessed it to him.

 

Though his eyes were wide he hardly seemed furious, or at least not any fury that she was familiar with or able to recognize. Despite her blushing cheeks she held his gaze and tried to read the feelings that were clearly swirling there, but her best efforts were no match for his practiced abilities at hiding them. Hermione hadn’t realized that the lapels of her robe had fallen open, one breast slightly exposed to his view, until she felt the heat of his gaze shifting. Whether he was staring to stare or staring so that she would notice her wardrobe malfunction she blushed harder simply because he was staring. But she did not make to right her robe, after all if he wanted to look away he could simply turn his head or close his eyes.

 

“I can’t find anything in here about how to get them to release, Hermione, just use your wand, try a finite incantatem.” She had turned her head away from him to glance at George, who seemed puzzled, and when she’d looked back his eyes were closed, his chest rising with the slightest hint of unevenness, as if he were straining to draw regular breaths. Her thumb swiped at the microscopic bead of sweat that was trickling down his temple and she grinned when he flinched at her touch, unable to remain perfectly still. She rose from the bed, walked over to her traveling cloak and withdrew her wand. While seeing him splayed like that had been good fun they needed to move on and she was certain she would be getting an earful when they returned home. When they returned home, the thought echoed in her head sending little jolts of uncertainty mingled with terrifying pleasure up and down her spine.

 

“Finite incantatem,” she said, swishing her wand in the general direction of the silks. But nothing happened. Hermione frowned. “Finite incantatem!” she tried again, this time with a more vigorous flicking of her wrist. Severus remained bound.

 

“Brilliant,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

 

Hermione stuffed her wand into the pocket of her dressing robe and moved over to George, “Let me see that book.” She snatched it up from him without waiting for him to oblige her. Scanning over every inch of the page that had described the silks, she found nothing. With a frustrated grunt she flipped to the page with the buxom female drawn on it. “There, right there…George do you have a magnifying— oh nevermind,” she said, pointing to tiny white dots on the black bracelets that the sketched girl wore. Drawing her wand once more she waved it over the paper, making the image appear a good ten times its original size. “There, what does that say?” she asked, pointing to the little white dots, which were no longer dots but messy writing.

 

George squinted at the page and twisted it to one side and then the other. “Bloody Fred and his bloody rubbish handwriting,” he muttered and then closed one eye as if that would help him see it more clearly. “Oh, it says release.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked back over to the bed, sitting down once more by his side. While her fingers still could not touch the scarves, she pointed at them and narrowed her eyes. “Release.” She huffed with indignation when Severus snorted at her, the simple word failing to free him. “If you’ve a better idea—”

 

“Try pointing with your wand instead of your fingers, Miss Granger.” He said with a smirk on his lips. Even though he was bound to the bed and completely restricted in his movement he was still one-upping her with his sarcastic biting tongue. It made her blood boil, which inside her already heated body was threatening to cause spontaneous combustion. A bitter grin crossed her lips before she drew her wand and pointed its tip at the scarf on his left wrist. “Release,” she said. But again nothing happened. “Oh my goodness this is annoying!” she huffed.

 

Severus gazed at her with eyes that pierced her through. “Really, Miss Granger, exactly how annoying is it, for you?”

 

She felt a little guilty after he’d spoken and then she sighed. “Just sit tight—” this earned her a patented eye roll as she stood from the bed. “We’re going to figure this out.”

 

“One should hope so, Miss Granger. I do not fancy spending the rest of my life tied to a bed in this workshop.”

 

His biting words incensed her but she thought about how miserable she had been when she’d found herself covered in fur. While her natural instincts were to panic and cry she had been thoroughly upset. It seemed that his nature was to revert to biting sarcasm and flippant words, a defense mechanism no doubt to hide several things, one of which being how strangely aroused he had become in the situation. Though she noted that since he’d stopped struggling with the scarves his erection had all but vanished. She pondered on this as she leaned over George’s shoulder looking into the ledger once more; perhaps he enjoyed being restrained, having someone else in control, though that seemed contradictory to every way in which she’d ever experienced him. She tucked those thoughts away in the back of her mind, determined to revisit them later.

 

“George what on earth are we going to do?” she asked, scouring the page to see if there were any other hints. And then she saw it, she didn’t understand why she hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh god, he means it literally! The blighter!” she cried, and cupped her hand over her mouth sheepishly. Tilting her eyes upward to the ether she mumbled, “Sorry, Fred.”

 

George looked at her with pure confusion swirling in his blue eyes. “What is it? He means what literally?” Hermione pointed to the drawing. While the right arm of the girl was raised as if she were waving at them, her left arm, which also bore the black bracelet with the mini letters printed on it, was twisted in front of her very exposed naked sex, fingers vanished from sight up inside of her quim. “Oh,” George said. “Oh!” She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him fully blush before, but something about seeing a sketch of a girl fingering herself made him turn beet red. “Oh boy,” he muttered and then shook his head. “Are you—”

 

Hermione nodded her head. “I don’t think you’re the right man for the job, George,” she said with a twisted smile on her lips. “Though maybe to ease his mind over it, is there something else we can test from that position?”

 

“I can still hear you talking!” Severus spat. “And I am not fond of the idea of testing something else while being stuck in my current predicament.”

 

She moved back over to the bed and sank down into the mattress. It was not nearly as comfortable as the bed she had purchased in Diagon Alley, but that was the least of her concerns. “The only way to release you from this set of scarves is to let you be released,” she said. This didn’t seem to register right away or if it did he was choosing not to acknowledge her. “Physical release, Severus,” she cast her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment at his flaccid cock.

 

He sighed. It was not the reaction she had imagined, but she supposed he was a rational man at the heart of it all and that he realized there would be little option otherwise. “Hence the product testing,” he said. Hermione nodded.

 

“I just figured if we could proverbially kill two birds with one stone…”

 

“Fine,” he said and then tilted his head away from her, closing his eyes.

 

“George?” Anything?” she asked. She looked over at George, who was no longer seated on the stool but rummaging around in the chest of drawers. “Maybe a lubricant or a stimulant?” Hermione swallowed hard, praying silently that he wouldn’t suggest some product that involved providing him with oral pleasure. It was not something they had practiced and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to give him release without having practiced it.

 

“This one should do the trick, I think,” George said, pushing the drawer shut. He walked over to the makeshift bed where Hermione was perched on the edge staring at him with apprehension in her eyes. “Don’t look so nervous, Hermione, it’s penis paint.” He grinned.

 

“Merlin help me,” Severus muttered.

 

She made to swat at him, her hand landing on his chest when she did. And she realized that it was a very familiar gesture. Had she become so familiar with him that slapping at him for his attitude felt acceptable? She wasn’t sure her mind agreed with that but her body had been quick to respond. Hermione refused to look at him, gazing intently at George, though she did not pull her hand back from his chest right away, knowing that he was bound and could not remove it himself. Her palm was flat against the center of his chest, her fingertips gently grazing the tiny pearl of his nipple. She could feel the light smattering of coarse hair that she knew dusted his chest now resting beneath her hand, and she could feel his heart beating. Not erratic but slightly faster than what she presumed was normal. The contact was delicious though she tried not to looked too pleased with herself as George read the instructions printed on the back of the tube.

 

“Cosmic Penis Paint.” This made Hermione wrinkle her nose and she could only imagine the face that Severus was making. “Lubricating skin stain that will give your cock the rocket look that will send your partner out of this word.”

 

“There is absolutely nothing appealing about that description,” said Severus. Hermione had let her hand slide down from his chest and it was now resting beside her on the bed as she eyed the tube in George’s hand. The tube itself was a deep blue color with little white dots all over it, the writing scrawled in gold across the back. She shrugged her shoulders and then looked back down at Severus. She took a mental picture, knowing that she may never again see the man bound and spread and completely naked and that it was simply too delicious a sight to forget.

 

“Well, if it’s just a lubricant of sorts, I don’t see the harm,” Hermione said, taking the tube from George. The little screw-on cap was shaped like a star and came off quite easily in her hand. Squeezing a small squirt into her palm she nearly went cross-eyed staring at it. The lubricant reminded her of kiddie toothpaste; a bright blue with little flecks of white and gold suspended in the gel. “Alright, here goes,” she said and then stood from the bed. She curled her fingers over the paint so that as she slid out of her robe it didn’t smear and then she moved to kneel at the bottom of the bed. Hermione walked on her knees until she was nestled between his thighs, biting her lower lip nervously. With the paint in her hand she curled her fingers around the base but quickly let go as he hissed. “Are you alright?”

 

“It’s cold,” he snarled, thrashing his head to the side. His legs were drawn apart a bit more as his body had jerked back when she’d touched him, his hips rising just a bit more off the bed. She could see everything. The way his balls, hairless thanks to the depilatory from day one, hung just below his cock, the smooth strip of skin that led back to his anus and Hermione swallowed hard, feeling her whole body ignite just looking at him. “What are you waiting for, Miss Granger?”

 

His voice shook her from her reverie and she blushed furiously, hoping he hadn’t really noticed that she’d been staring. He was a wonderful specimen to stare at and she’d felt so much of him in so many different ways, it was impossible not to appreciate a proper glance. But she’d glanced long enough and needed to concentrate on applying the glob of paint that was now smeared in her hand. Once again she curled her fingers around the base of his shaft and noted that this time he did not hiss, though she supposed now that it had rested in her palm for a few seconds it had warmed somewhat. Hermione stroked her hand up his length, over the tip, and back down fully around him, spreading the paint with both her fingers and palm. When she released his cock she was surprised to find that neither her palm nor her fingers were stained with the coloring. Glancing at his cock she noticed that he was once again growing quite hard, but aside from that his length was a dark shade of blue spotted spontaneously with little white and gold stars. It was impossible not to laugh.

 

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep the string of giggles that was threatening to occur from leaping out of her mouth. It would be rude at the very least if she started laughing. She imagined she had looked quite ridiculous covered in fur and with the various products that had been suited to her and never once had he laughed. But there was something quite hilarious about his rigid length looking like an obscurely shaped planet from a solar system model. She turned her head to George, clearing her throat before speaking. “Does it look alright?”

 

George tilted his head sideways and shrugged. “I guess so, it actually looks a bit like the picture in the book.” It didn’t seem to surprise her that there was a picture in the ledger after what she had seen just flipping through a few of the pages. “Give it a taste, I don’t recall it saying anything about it being toxic.”

 

“I should hope not,” Hermione muttered and then turned back to face Severus. He was once again staring straight up at the ceiling. His cock was fully hard; listing slightly to the left and looking a bit like a chunk of the night sky. She could feel the wave of icy terror sweeping up through her at the prospect of tasting him. Though it was only doing what she had done before, pressing her lips to his cock as she had when she’d tested the clouds and the tongue tinglers. He hadn’t asked her to fully perform oral sex so she tried to calm her nerves as she leaned over his pelvis. Her hair brushed his thighs though he didn’t react as she’d thought he might. “Ok…” she whispered to herself and then closed her eyes.

 

The paint was slick as she pressed her lips against the underside of his shaft; even covered in paint his skin was heated. Hermione could feel her lips trembling as she parted them to press her tongue against his rigid length. The silky texture that she had felt before was replaced with an almost slippery feeling and he tasted a bit like plastic. She inched her lips upward, cresting over the tip of his cock, parting her lips to draw him ever so slightly into the heat of her mouth. His cock twitched as she closed her lips around him, swirling her tongue around the head for more of a taste. Pulling back her cheeks were flushed and she felt the red heat of embarrassment coursing through her body. “It tastes a bit like plastic, George,” her voice was heavy and breathy.

 

“Well nobody wants to suck on plastic, have to make a note that it’s not intended for oral sex,” he said, scratching away at the ledger.

 

“Right,” she swallowed and then looked at Severus. He was still stretched taut by the black scarves, his chest still heaving up and down though he wasn’t making a sound. His eyes were open, staring back at her and she bit her lower lip. “Let’s get you out of these scarves,” she whispered. Hermione crept forward, feeling the sticky heat between her legs, just seeing him as he was had apparently been enough to get her going; though if she were honest with herself being around him in their current circumstances was enough to keep her perpetually aroused. She was gentle as she climbed up over his thighs, not wanting to cause him any undue strain. Straddling his lap she gazed down into his eyes, their smoldering black heat making her quiver just the slightest.

 

A loud buzzer filled the room, followed by a shrill cackle; the sounds being enough to startle her and she lost her balance, pitching forward and smashing down onto Severus’ chest. He grunted from beneath her, the wind pushed out of him from her sudden fall. “What in blazes was that?” she cried, trying to push herself up from his body.

 

George sighed. “That’ll be the buzzer for the delivery dock outback.” Standing from the stool he closed the ledger. “Might be those new polymer bases I ordered for the whoopee cushions,” he shrugged his shoulders. “You two can go at it, I won’t be long,” he said and then skipped toward the door that led back down into the shop.

 

Hermione closed her eyes as she resituated herself, lifting her hips as she gripped the base of his cock with one hand. Jolts of pleasure were already zinging through her and as she squeezed his shaft she sighed contentedly hearing the slight groan in the back of his throat. “You don’t have to be so restrained, you know,” she whispered, leaning over him once more.

 

Bound to the bed and unable to move little more than his head he closed his eyes. “Would you just get on with it, Miss Granger,” he muttered, though she could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure.

 

“Well I’d like to get on it, if you don’t mind,” she said, a rare smirk crossing her lips.

 

“Cheeky witch,” he muttered and then hissed as she impaled herself on his rigid length. Initially her instinct was to panic and ask him if she’d hurt him but she was quickly growing accustomed to which sounds indicated pleasure and which indicated something else. Hermione shuddered feeling how full he once again felt inside of her, stretching her pulsating walls with his sheer size. Ronald had certainly been no comparison and she’d never made it past petting with clothes on when she’d been with Viktor. But she knew he was larger than what was likely considered normal, enormous by comparison to her previous lover. She could feel her walls clenching all around him; the second time in her life where she had been on top, technically the third if she counted the little experiment with the D2.

 

“Do you intend to move or do you intend for me to do that as well?” His voice snapped her out of the delicious debate she was having in her mind. She realized in that moment that she was in completely control. That he was raging hard, she was impaled upon his pulsing rod of flesh and that there wasn’t a blessed thing he could do about it because of the enchanted scarves. She only wished that she knew more about teasing men with her body. Straightening up she arched back, rolling her hips up and down slightly, slow movements that made her pant and whimper as she did. The friction of having a man inside of her, and not just any man but the surly sardonic man who was currently beneath her; feeling him fill her while being completely in control of him, it was a heady sense that nearly made her dizzy with pleasure.

 

And then she felt a tiny shock. “Oh!” she cried. It was a micro-zap that had touched her deep inside her loins, causing her to shudder and sway forward slightly. “Oooh…” she moaned feeling another much deeper pulse of tingling pleasure. “Oh it must be the stars…” she groaned, her hips undulating as she felt pulse after pulse, punctuated with the occasional zing of hot white electric pleasure. “Oh, Merlin…” she panted, and then forced her eyes open to gaze down into his.

 

His lips were pressed tightly together forming a thin line and she realized that he must be feeling it too; the pulses and the zaps. “Can you…ooh!” she cried as she began to buck her hips in earnest, an erratic rhythm with wild abandon that left her feeling a little like she was riding a vibrator.

 

“Yes,” he hissed, his voice as strained as his face looked.

 

It was too delicious; too intense, and far too pleasurable. Hermione was glad for once that George wasn’t watching as she felt her control slipping away entirely. An overwhelming desire to touch him surged through her body and she couldn’t help herself as she began to rub her hands up and down his chest, leaning forward on her arms as she began to ride up and down on his throbbing cock. She was moaning; a reckless sound that swelled up from deep inside of her, each downward thrust sending more and more little zips and zaps of pleasure shooting up into her. The strangled noises he was making only encouraged her and while she desperately wished he would give up trying to restrain himself, she was too swept up in the pleasure of it to do anything more about it.

 

She tossed her head back, her curls bouncing wildly down her neck and back as she rode him; the slick sound of her body slapping against his pelvis filling the workshop. Her hands were stroking him again, nails raking through the fine dusting of his chest hair, grazing over his nipples. Severus grunted when she touched his nipples with her nails, and she whimpered hearing that carnal sound. Again she raked her nails over the tiny little pebbles of his chest, watching through hooded lids as he ground his jaw trying to keep from expressing the sensations she was stirring within him.

 

Hermione lost herself as more little pulses began shooting up into her, every rock of her hips driving her closer and closer to the edge of eruption. She was practically sobbing as she fell forward, hips still frantically riding up and down, her walls clenching furiously at him as an orgasm swept through her, surprising her with a blast of buzzing pleasure between her legs. Her lips fell against his neck, her breasts pressed down against his torso and her whole body began to quake. The cry that she heard was not her own and she felt him shudder; his cock trapped in her slick clenching heat, his own release triggered by her climax. Lips brushed against skin and then she was kissing him, so lost and swept up in the moment that she didn’t even realize it.

 

He tasted so sweet; uniquely unlike anything she’d ever tasted before and her tongue swiveled against his as she moaned and shook. Arms wrapped around her back and she felt herself toppling over, her back sinking down into the mattress, the weight of his body atop her. Their bodies were still joined, his lips moving against hers and she whimpered feeling the heat from his chest bearing down on her breasts, his hair falling forward against her face.

 

Severus pulled back, panting and completely out of breath, his eyes wild, almost frantic as they searched hers. She too was out of breath, trembling beneath him, clutching to him in a frightened fashion. And then he pulled away from her, sitting up and moving to the edge of the makeshift bed. Hermione was stunned. What had she just done? It was obvious that his release had freed him from his binds, but there had been a moment, hadn’t there? He rolling her off him and pinning her down, fervently returning her kiss. Or had he been trying to push her off and it had just felt like he had been reciprocating? Her head swam as she tried to think through it. Pulling herself upright she stood and quickly snatched up her robe, pulling it around her figure as she came to stand in front of him. “What just—”

 

“Let it go, Miss Granger,” he whispered, his voice still not quite his own.

 

Her eyes were wide and she made to protest but the sound of the workshop door swinging open halted her words. George had returned, several crates floating behind him. Her mind was jumbled with the incident. It was intimate, it was passionate, and she swore he had kissed her back. She couldn’t have been so caught up in the moment that she imagined the whole thing. He had returned her kiss, pinning her down beneath his delicious body; and that startled her.

 

“How’d it go?” George asked, sending the crates to the far side of the workshop. “I see you made it out of the bindings, Severus, so that’s good. Need to make sure I mark that one clearly in the notes, do not use unless you intend to follow through,” he chuckled. “What about the Cosmic stuff?”

 

Both Severus and Hermione stared at him for a moment. It was Severus that spoke. “It appears to have some sort of pulsing current enchanted into the formula.” And just like that he sounded normal. As if she hadn’t stolen away his breath, as if they hadn’t kissed, as if none of it had happened. Hermione was dumbfounded. “My guess would be it is designed to mimic shooting stars.” He gazed down into his lap noting that while the bluish coloring remained over his now flaccid cock, all of the little gold and white stars had vanished.

 

“Right,” George said. He took a moment to rummage around and found the spray bottle and cloth he’d given them on day one. “This should take the blue off,” he said, tossing the bottle to Severus, who caught it midair. “Hermione, was it pleasant?”

 

She shook her head, not sure she trusted her own voice. But after a moment’s breath she spoke. “It was extremely intense, but yes, pleasant. A little like zaps and zings of mild electricity— er mild zaps,” she said, wondering if George would know what a zing of electricity felt like. “Definitely something that will catch you off guard if you aren’t expecting it, but I think it brings climax about faster,” she said and then turned her eyes to Severus.

 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so.”

 

George was once again scribbling away in his notebook. “Great!” he said. “Did you guys want a break, I could order some dinner if you like, and then we can get back to the other two silks?”

 

Hermione nodded her head. “I actually think I need the loo,” she walked toward George. “But I’m not hungry.”

 

“Right, you can go up to the flat, it should be open. Severus, you hungry? I may order some food even if you two don’t want any.”

 

Severus shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t require food, but the break isn’t a bad idea.” He did not move from the makeshift bed, though his legs were now crossed to keep his privates out of sight. “A recovery period will be necessary if either of the remaining scarves demand the sort of release this one did.”

 

“Right,” said George. “Though we always have the Lustipops.” Severus made a face and George chuckled. “Or we can just wait it out a bit.”

 

Hermione did not hear the rest of their conversation as she slipped up into George’s flat. Heaving a great sigh she leaned back against the door and slid down it to the floor. That had been an intense experience and her mind couldn’t push it to the back of her thoughts. He had kissed her back. And it wasn’t a case of teaching her as it had been the night he’d mocked her with that passionate kiss. His tongue had been in her mouth, touching her tongue. If he’d been trying to push her away he would have closed his lips even if she had forced her tongue in. She shook her head, she was sure of it. He had kissed her back. She very much dreaded the night ending because no doubt there would be a conversation once they returned to Spinner’s End.

 

She had remained up in George’s flat for a good twenty minutes if his time piece kept accurate time. She’d splashed water on her face in an attempt to cool herself down and even rinsed off just to try and get the sensation of him out from between her legs. It didn’t help. Hermione was thankful that she had been on a birth control regimen long before she’d started the product testing; for as hard as he’d come in that last round she was certain he could have produced triplets. She had to stop thinking about it. It would not do to have another repeat with her throwing herself at him. Her mind kept going back to his words: let it go. He wanted her to forget it, or ignore it; perhaps pretend that it didn’t happen. But that was impossible. His tongue in her mouth and the way he’d pressed his body down on hers; just thinking about it wound her body up all over again. When she couldn’t find a rational excuse for staying in the flat any longer she made her way back down into the workshop, surprised to see Severus still on the bed, though he had donned his robe.

 

“Feeling better?” George asked with a kind hearted smile.

 

“Quite,” she said. “Just needed a bit of a lie down is all.” She hoped that her lie was not so transparent as to provoke more questions. It seemed to work as George motioned her back over to the makeshift bed.

 

“Should we tackle green or purple next?” he asked.

 

“Let me see the sketch again please.” Hermione leaned over his shoulder and looked into the ledger. The girl was wearing a green corset that appeared to be made out of ribbons. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. She also wore purple garters. Though Hermione rationalized that the black scarf hadn’t exactly given Severus bracelets. “Um, I guess green would be safe,” she said with a weary glance over to Severus. He was sitting with his legs hanging down over the bed, the robe stopping just above his knee. She noted for the first time just how pale he truly was, his coarse black hair making his skin look almost snow white in the light.

 

“Alright, tug away,” George said and settled into his stool prepared to watch and take notes.

 

Hermione walked over to the bed and picked up the green scarf, holding it in her hands. She waited a moment for Severus to remove his robe and lie flat back before she tugged the ends. Unlike the black scarf, the green one slithered slowly down her fingers, moving toward his body, growing in length the way the yellow one had. At first it began to wrap itself around his torso, sliding easily under his body, around and around his flesh, slowly making his chest disappear from view. Hermione was convinced that he was going to end up in a corset until his arms became pinched to his sides, now tangled in the length of green silk. The intricate binding was making quick work of covering him like a mummy, earthy green silk covering him from his shoulders down to his knees. But then she realized not all of him was covered.

 

Quite cleverly the scarf had woven its way around his legs in a fashion that lifted his balls and cock, leaving them as the only bit of flesh exposed to her eye. “Oh my…” she said and then perched on the edge of the bed. “I take it trying to break free of these yields the same as the other two?”

 

Severus wriggled in the bindings, trying to no avail to part his legs or lift his arms. “It would appear so.”

 

Hermione brushed her hand over his cock, feeling it twitch against her palm. “George?” she called to him. “I can touch this one,” she said gently tugging at the green scarf, sliding her hands under the loose binding to lay her palm flat against his pelvic bone. He was bound quite firmly but not so tightly that the scarf did not give with a simple bit of manipulation. “More for aesthetic effect, I think,” she said. Finding the end of the lengthy scarf she gently tugged on it and watched as it slowly began to unwind from around his body. “Fascinating,” she added.

 

In just moment Severus was again naked on the bed, free of the green bindings. “Well that one seems like it might just be good fun,” George said making a note in his book. “Nothing terribly torturous about it, seems to come undone easily enough,” he shrugged. “Guess they can’t all be ridiculous,” he grinned. “Just the purple one left, right? Since we can’t find the red one?”

 

“Right,” she said and picked up the purple silk. It had felt softer than the others if that were possible. Hermione gave it a tug on both ends and watched as it spiraled forth out of her hands, splitting into two lengths. Each of the two scarves wrapped around his thighs, pulling them wide, forcing his knees to bend upward as they drew his legs up to his arms. Wrapping and wrapping the scarves bound his knees to his elbows, leaving him spread wide with everything exposed. “Good lord…” she whispered, feeling flushed, watching once again as the silks seemed to spur on his erection. But the silks didn’t stop crawling along his skin once his arms were bound to his legs. He looked terribly apprehensive as he felt it creep along the side of his face, two thick swaths wrapping around his head, covering his eyes.

 

Hermione bit her lower lips, feeling a pulsing between her thighs. The sight of him bound as he was and now blindfolded was even more tempting than when he had simply been bound in the spread eagle position.

 

“Does that hurt, Severus, it looks like it’s putting you in a great deal of pain,” George asked, standing beside Hermione to examine the way it had bound him.

 

Severus grunted. “It is not the most comfortable of positions but the scarves are not too tight nor are they cutting off circulation.” She could hear the telltale strain in his voice. Hermione couldn’t fathom how a reserved person such as he ever came to discover that bondage was his turn-on. And the more she thought about it, the less she wanted to know.

 

“Can you see through it?” George asked.

 

“No.”

 

Hermione had expected a sarcastic comment, or at the very least a harsh response, but was surprised with his answer. She carefully lowered herself onto the bed at the foot of it, trying not to look as if she were staring at the way he was exposed. He was beautiful; something terribly devious and yet oh so sexy about seeing his balls, his cock, and his ass in that way. She jumped when she felt George’s hand on her shoulder. “Yes?” she said, turning to face him, face flushed.

 

“If it’s alright with Severus, I think there is a product in one of the top drawers that we could test while he’s…well, for lack of better word, on display.”

 

She noted the way Severus stiffened suddenly when George spoke, feeling the mattress shift just slightly. “Well, I’m alright with it if he’s alright with it.”

 

At first he said nothing, and it drove Hermione crazy that she couldn’t see his eyes, though she knew even if she had been able to she wouldn’t have been able to read what was in them. “What is this mystery product, Mr. Weasley?”

 

George had gone over to the chest of drawers, slid open the top most drawer and was walking back with a box in hand. “I wasn’t sure how to bring this one up, since it’s sort of pushing the line of fun and games, but…” he lifted the lid from the box. Hermione gazed inside and her eyes crinkled as she tried to discern what it was she was looking at. “Essentially Fred had designed a game, similar to target practice…” he pulled a thin series of rings from the box. “You line them up like a dart board almost,” he explained. “And then you throw these,” pinched between two fingers he plucked up little cylinders that had slightly rounded heads at the end. “They erupt on contact, nothing painful, so the notes say, and dissolve into little splatters of white colored chocolate cream…”

 

Hermione nodded her head dumbly taking it all in. “Which the partner throwing would then lick up…right?” she asked, putting the bigger picture together in her head.

 

“The rings are peppermint flavored, I think the idea is to make anilingus more enticing,” he blushed a bit when he spoke. Hermione felt her stomach twist tight in knots. This was not something she had considered. She had no experience as it was with her mouth in regards to sex, other than sloppy kisses. Biting her lower lip she tried not to seem terrified by the idea. Though she supposed given what she had learned of Severus’s sexuality, he might rather enjoy it. It didn’t get much more intimate than what George was suggesting and she figured they had gone that far already, a little farther couldn’t possibly make it any more awkward.

 

She took the little dart-like cylinder from George’s fingers, closely examining the little head. She was about to touch it when George stopped her. “I think they erupt on contact,” he said.

 

Hermione nodded her head. “Well, I should know if it’s palatable before we go testing them all, right?” she asked nervously. After a moment George nodded his head in agreement. With a press of her fingertip the little bulb did deflate, oozing thick white cream down its sides. The smell of chocolate filled the air. “Well it smells pleasant enough.” Catching a glob of the white cream on her finger she brought it to her lips and slowly sucked it into her mouth. It tasted exactly like chocolate only it wasn’t sticky as she had expected it to be. “Oh, actually that’s not bad. It’s almost like real chocolate. Only it’s not sticky.”

 

“Right, well,” he said handing her the box. “The rings are meant to look like a target, the littlest one…” he trailed off blushing. It seemed that George, despite being openly homosexual, was embarrassed by the prospect of things related to anal sex. Or maybe it was that he found Severus attractive and having to watch her perform acts that he wished he could be performing made him blush. She didn’t know, but thinking about what she knew of Severus it made her smirk just the tiniest bit. Hermione thought she had recalled George saying that he did not find Severus attractive, though she wondered now if that had merely been a cover.

 

Hermione moved over to the bed and sank down on it, still in her robe. She saw no reason to take her robe off for what lay ahead. “Are you ok with this?” she asked.

 

Severus was silent for a long time, his erection still notably hard. “Do I have a choice?” he asked. “I’m bound at your mercy, Miss Granger.”

 

“Oh, if you don’t want to we don’t have to I can tell George that you’re not—”

 

“It’s something that we’re going to have to test eventually, might as well get it over with.”

 

His words seemed so much sharper given that she could not see his eyes. But looking at his body bound as it was, fully on display, his eyes hidden behind the purple silk made her tremble. She was in complete control of him in that moment. Such power made her insides heat like a roaring inferno. Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around the notion that being in control was turning her on, even more so was the fact that she was in control of him. Was she discovering a dominant side to her sexuality? She wondered what it would be like to be dominated and that sent her spine tingling as well. Pressing her lips together she nodded her head, realizing after a moment that he most likely couldn’t hear her nodding. “Alright,” she said. It seemed a foolish gesture, taking her robe off, as he could neither see it nor would he really be able to tell, but something inside of her compelled her to even the playing field, even if it was just a little bit. He was still bound and she still had freedom of movement, the least she could do was be equally as naked.

 

Hermione pulled the rings from the box. They were thin and rubbery, almost like licorice circles. The largest one looked as if it could easily span his entire underside while the smallest one looked as if it were just big enough to sit around his anus. She bit her lower lip. “Are you sure—”

 

“Thank your lucky stars, Miss Granger, that I am a well prepared and cleanly man,” he paused and then sighed. “Let’s not pretend your hesitancy is for my sake.” His words made her shiver and bristle at the same time. She genuinely had been considered about how it would affect him, though she would be lying if she tried to deny that she hadn’t also thought of what he’d just mentioned. Feeling just the slightest bit indignant, she pressed both of her hands flat against the backs of his thighs right at his ass. Just feeling his skin was wonderful. She wasn’t sure why she had expected he would have cold flesh, for as much touching as she’d done of his body and as much as she’d felt his hands in the past few days she knew better, yet it was always a surprise to feel the heat radiating from him.

 

It was a delicate process; placing each of the rings. She started with the smallest one, pressing it just around his anus, watching as she flinched but could not properly close his legs due to the bindings. A larger one left a good two inch gap between the first one and the second one and there was another gap between the middle ring and the largest. She was surprised at how easily they adhered to his skin, marveling at the way his thighs began to tremble when she traced her fingers around one of the rings. “Does it feel alright?”

 

“Fine,” he hissed.

 

Hermione grinned. He was straining his voice and she could see the way his jaw was jutted upward, desperately trying to restrict some guttural sound. “George, how far back should I be to try and throw these?” she asked, feeling a hint of blush creeping into her cheeks. It paled by comparison to how flushed he looked.

 

“I don’t know, how good’s your aim?” he asked with a sheepish grin.

 

He seemed eager to watch and Hermione was grateful that Severus’ eyes were closed. It was bad enough that she was about to embark on a totally new experience and George would see her making an ass of herself, no pun intended. She didn’t need Severus’ mockery to escalate the situation. There had been six of the little darts in the box but she’d ruptured one to taste it leaving only five. Not having spent much time in muggle pubs she knew she’d be dreadful at darts. They had a game similar to it in wizarding pubs, but the darts were enchanted and could easily be fixed, which essentially took the skill out of the game. And even then she hadn’t found the idea appealing. This was entirely new to her, conceptually, sexually, and all of the above.

 

Biting her lower lip she scooted back to the edge of the bed and held the little dart between her fingers. It would have to travel about a foot or so to hit him. She figured she could manage that distance. She threw the little dart and bit her lip hard when it made contact with his body, cream erupting just below his balls. Severus had groaned, his body writhing for a moment before he settled down, unable to move much with the way he was bound. She licked her lips, it had been beautiful to watch him and she could easily see the appeal of this product to those that would buy it in tandem with the silky scarves. A thought crossed her mind and she was voicing it before she could help herself.

 

“Do you intend to sell the scarves individually with a description of what they do? Or in one package? Personally I think making them a collector’s series…as certain ones, like this purple one, may be more suited for purchasing with other products…like these anal darts.”

 

George’s nervous laughter made her blush. “Regardless of how I sell the scarves, we are not calling those things anal darts,” he said. “But I think I do like your idea of selling them individually, can racket the price up a bit and make more of a profit that way, especially if they’re sold suggestively with the intent of co-purchasing like you just mentioned.”

 

Hermione nodded her head and then picked up a second dart. Her aim improved with her second shot, landing just off to the side of his anus, eliciting a strangled groan from his lips. The third dart landed just opposite, so close to the center of the target that it brought forth another groan from him. It was exciting, she couldn’t deny how very wet she was getting and it took all the self control she possessed not to give up with the darts and simply straddle him again. The idea of riding him whilst he was so fully exposed with the scarves serving double duty as a blindfold made her loins burn and she subtly tried to rub her thighs together for just the slightest bit of friction. Her fourth dart landed far off and up on his torso.

 

“Your aim is dreadful,” he spat through clenched teeth.

 

Gripping the tip of the last dart she jabbed it forward, poking it gently against his anus rather than throwing it. Her trick achieved the desired result and a low moan escaped his lips, his cock jerking violently. She was pleased with herself, if a bit nervous as she realized she was now meant to taste her markings. Again she bit her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. The smell of chocolate was bountiful but there was something else; that heady scent of his body that she had experienced when she’d pressed her lips to him the day before when they’d tested the clouds. It made her dizzy as she inhaled and leaned her head downward, taking just a brief moment to pull her hair back with an enchantment.

 

Boldly crossing a new frontier, Hermione’s lips pressed delicately against the flesh of his balls, letting her tongue glide below them to where the first dart had erupted. Chocolate and musk and masculinity invaded her mouth and she was in ecstasy. But her pleasure seemed remote and unimpressive compared to the way his body jerked at the slightest touch of her mouth. His balls tightened, the skin on his sac drawing taut as she laved her tongue up and down their underside until she’d licked up all of the white cream. He was panting heavily, his breaths ragged and uneven and she reveled in knowing that she was undoing him one slow lick at a time.

 

This sensation of giving him pleasure enough to break him seemed to encourage her and she boldly drew her tongue down across his cheek, quite close to his anus without actually touching him. The rubbery rings did indeed taste minty, mingling with the chocolate in her mouth for a pleasant combination. Hermione shifted her body so that she was laying on her side across the bed, giving her a better angle for her neck as she began to mouth little kisses all around the large ring, tracing her tongue along its outline. Severus was jerking and trembling, unable to help himself. Between the way his muscles were bound and the pleasure she was providing she imagined he was strung so tightly that a proper squeeze of his cock would be enough to set him off like a rocket. But she resisted the urge and continued her little game, slowly licking her way across the gap between the large outer ring and the smaller middle ring. His skin was salty; musky and heady and it made her moan in the back of her throat, the sound buried against his flesh as she began to lick at the cream from the second and third exploded dot.

 

Severus’s thighs were trembling and she could see the strain as his muscles quivered, the way each swipe of her tongue caused him to jerk, bucking his hips forward against her face. It pleased her more than she could describe to witness him losing control. Hermione dragged her lips around the tiny ring very careful not to actually touch his anus the first lap around. She could feel him straining, everything about him rigid and tense, but she had long since stopped worrying about whether not it was painful. If his raging cock with its weeping tip was any indication he was experiencing pleasure tenfold.

 

Her tongue pressed against his anus and she flattened it, drawing it in a slow motion upward to taste the chocolate cream from the dart. His whole body spasmed; bucking harder than she’d ever felt it and an actual cry, deep and throaty, was pulled from his lips. She licked him again, his body responding with another violent twisting motion, his feet arching upward. She could feel his balls tightening, his sac drawing up away from her face and she realized that he was on the edge of coming. Hermione was bold as she placed her thumb where her tongue had been, circling his anus and rubbing the little bit of chocolate cream that remained into the taut ring of muscles with a hint of pressure. Her lips parted and closed around the weeping head of his cock and he cried out.

 

The jerking spasms of his cock were more than she had expected but somehow she managed to keep his cock in her mouth between her lips as he erupted. A blast of hot cum filled her mouth, spurting and gushing against her tongue and the back of her throat. It seemed endless; his cock still twitching in her mouth, filling her mouth, giving her no choice but to swallow him back. Hermione swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, catching more of his seed until finally it seemed to stop coming. She swallowed again and then pulled her head back, flushed and out of breath. His face was twisted in what appeared to be anguish but she knew better, despite not being able to see his eyes.

 

Remembering where they were she quickly glanced over at George, who had his head all but buried in the ledger book, writing so fast that little sprays of red ink were flying everywhere. Hermione was trembling, her thighs quaking as she leaned up over his body, her lips resting near his ear. “You tasted so bitter…and yet so sweet.”

 

“Untie me,” he panted, his breath stolen from him in the great cry that she’d pulled from his lips with her sudden decision to take him in her mouth.

 

Realizing that his muscles must have been putting his body in a permanent flux between pleasure and pain she quickly drew her wand and tapped the purple scarf. Immediately it unwound from around his eyes and then released his thighs, coiling back into one length of fabric before falling limp against his knees on the bed. Severus groaned as he unbent his legs and straightened them. Hermione was quick with her wand, using a simple cleansing charm to clean up the remainder of the little dart game, rings and all. “George, I think marketed together it’s a brilliant product,” she said.

 

“I’ll say,” he said without looking up. She imagined that if he had looked up his face would have been as red as his hair. “I think— I think that’s enough for tonight, we got a lot accomplished. The paint, the target, and those four scarves, plus the D2…you both must be exhausted.” Severus said nothing, though Hermione was not surprised. “Take tomorrow off, it’s Saturday anyhow and I’m sure after spending all day at the shop while its open the last thing I’m going to want to do is stay late. Plus I need some time to tinker with the sleeve on the D2 and sort some more of the products…as I meander through the workshop I keep finding things that I hadn’t before.”

 

“Alright,” Hermione said, standing from the bed. Severus was two steps ahead of her, already at the hook putting his clothes on. She smiled politely at George. “I hope if you launch the nipple creams tomorrow that they go well.”

 

“Me too,” he said with a smile as he lifted his head from the ledger, some natural color having returned to his cheeks. “Here,” he said handing her two satchels of coins. “Give Severus his,” he nodded in the direction of the door. Severus was through it and gone from the workshop.

 

Hermione dressed quickly but not quickly enough. She was down on the street and there was no sign of him. She was sure he’d apparated straight back to Spinner’s End so she did the same. She had half expected the house to be locked and for him to refuse her entry when she pushed on the door, but to her surprise it was open. He was nowhere in sight and when she moved down the hallway to where their bedrooms were his door was shut. She sighed and settled for leaving his satchel of payment on the kitchen table.

 

Her nightly routine did not take her long and she hadn’t even bothered to see what time it was when she’d finished brushing her teeth in their shared bathroom. She would have to ask him if it were alright to keep some of her toiletries in the enchanted medicine cabinet as she felt a little silly toting her toothbrush, toothpaste and things of the like back and forth to the bathroom. Once in her nightgown she sat on the edge of her bed feeling awkward about the way he’d so abruptly left. Had he been humiliated to lose control? His body had certainly enjoyed it. Had it offended him that she’d wanted to take him in her mouth, or was it her comment that put him off? It was impossible to say. And after a good deal of mulling it over she rose from her bed and stepped out into the hallway. She raised her hand to knock on his bedroom door but his voice froze her midair.

 

“Go away, Miss Granger.” Baffled that he had heard her before she’d even knocked she was about to speak when he spoke again. “Your traipsing up and down the hallway is akin to a hippo attempting to jetè, try to be quieter when moving about.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at the door; all thoughts of his humiliation, his pleasure, and their shared kiss temporarily swept away in her anger. Surprised to find that his door was not locked she pushed her way into his bedroom. He was seated on his bed, wearing a long black dressing robe that was tied firmly around the middle. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.

 

“Apparently go away are not words you’re familiar with,” he rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

 

“Well I had meant to apologize but after you were so rude just now I don’t suppose I feel like it.”

 

He snorted. “Apologize for what, Miss Granger?”

 

She faltered at his question. A frown creased her lips. “I…” She sighed. “May I sit down?”

 

Severus rolled his eyes again. “Must you?”

 

She stepped over to the bed and gently sank down beside him, her thigh brushing his. He did not make to pull away from her though she supposed doing so would have pushed him off the end of the bed. Hermione hung her head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

 

“Miss Granger, what are you talking about?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“This evening…I…and then you…” but she trailed off. She honestly had no idea what to say. Or even where to start. The kiss had been one thing, but then there was something else entirely going on when she had started with her tongue in his most intimate place. She sighed again. “I just, I feel like I ought to apologize. For lots of things, I’m just not really sure where to start.”

 

He did not turn his head to look at her, his face staring at the empty wall. “I don’t believe you have anything to apologize for unless you’ve done me some harm that I’ve yet to know of.”

 

He was either speaking in riddles again or being flip. Though his tone lacked what she considered his ‘flippant voice’ and so once again she found herself perplexed. Hermione’s hands were on her knees, squeezing her kneecaps as if she might divine some answer from doing so. “I just—” she bit her lower lip and then gave in. “That kiss…I don’t know. And then you were…losing it, and I…I don’t know.”

 

Severus was silent for a long while. “You think too much on things, Miss Granger.” He said finally.

 

This did not quell her nerves. She shifted her hand over from her kneecap to the top of his thigh just above his knee but quickly pulled it back when he flinched at her touch. “Sorry,” she muttered.

 

“Do not mistake yourself,” he said, turning his head to face her. She could see worlds of hidden unreadable emotions swirling in his eyes but dared not to speak while he was speaking. “This is a job—”

 

“That kiss was no job, Severus.” Her voice was laced with her temper, which she was quickly losing. It was one thing for him to be cross over humiliating him, though even that she was beginning to doubt as she wasn’t sure he had felt humiliated at all. But to throw it to her that she was out of line in their job after he had kissed her, granted he had returned the kiss that she had initiated, it irked her.

 

“No it was not,” he said. She heard something in his voice that she couldn’t place. Was it doubt? Or anguish? It was impossible to tell but she what she hadn’t heard was anger, or resentment or his classic sarcasm that seemed to bite at her as much as the day was long. His simple response, just four words, only threw her further into the confusion of the situation.

 

“But you—” she stopped herself and drew in a breath. “You returned that kiss. Even if I started it, which I admit, I must have, but you…you definitely returned it.”

 

There was a long pause once again and she felt herself nervously tapping her toe on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. “It was a moment, Miss Granger. I believe you’ll find you were as caught up in it as I.”

 

She had been prepared to protest, but she hadn’t been prepared for that. Was that all it had been? Being caught up in the moment? Extreme pleasure with their hormones raging like randy teenagers and so the natural thing to do had been to snog passionately? She could feel her tight constricting and her face burning a bright red. Once again she’d somehow created a situation when there was a logical and rational explanation to the fantastical nonsense she’d built up in her head. Hermione stood from his bed. “Well, that I guess I’m apologizing for being caught up in a moment then,” she said, not able to look at him.

 

“As I said before, I do not believe you have any reason to apologize, you certainly won’t be hearing one from me.”

 

She refused to storm out of his room. If he was trying to make her angry or hurt her, he was succeeding but she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her. Hermione simply nodded, hugged her arms around herself and then caught his eyes with her own. “Well, goodnight then,” she said and then walked slowly out of his room, across the hall and into her own. Pulling the door shut behind her she collapsed onto her bed and felt the trembling of her heaving breast as it pressed down into the mattress. Hermione cried, unable to stop the tears as she realized what a fool she’d made of herself. She cried herself to sleep.


	9. Of Bathtubs and Blowjobs

Saturday was spent avoiding him. Which for the most part she’d managed to do quite successfully. They’d only crossed paths once, when she was stepping back into her room after a shower and he stepping out of his room heading to it. The moment had been awkward, only because they’d both paused and looked at one another. Hermione had broken the gaze and moved into her room and that had been that. She lounged about on her bed, after quite the lie in, and even popped into Hogsmeade to meet Ginny for a spot of afternoon tea. With the prospect of having a night free ahead of her she almost didn’t know what to do with herself. When she’d woken that morning she’d felt ridiculous for crying herself to sleep but she realized that it meant two things. The first being that she was starting to get emotionally caught up in everything that was going on, and the second being that she was getting close to a visit from her Aunt Flo. The prospect of having to share that little bit of information with both George and Severus had been enough to put her off the idea of breakfast entirely. While she imagined that they both, especially Severus, knew and understood that a woman had a monthly cycle, she did not in any way shape or form relish sharing this bit of information with them.

 

She tried not to think about the way she’d foolishly apologized, wishing that she hadn’t brought up the kiss. It had obviously been nothing more than what he had said it had been, them each caught up in a moment. Though when she returned back to Spinner’s End after a lovely afternoon with Ginny she found it was all she could think of. The way his lips had pressed against hers; such a different feeling from when he’d kissed her to mock her that first night. Though both kisses had involved his tongue in her mouth the one from the night before had felt genuine; filled with lust and need. There was something carnal and raw about it; the way he’d been so fully engaged without even realizing it. And it drove her mad, the more she tried to shift her focus away from it, the more the images and sensations of her memory came floating unbidden into her mind. Hermione was determined to think about something else and resolved herself to reading a book, but decided that lying alone in bed was too much of a temptation to let her mind wander, even with the pages of her favorite tome.

 

The sitting room was empty when she entered, figuring it to be just half six. If he was home he was locked away in his bedroom. If he wasn’t home she had no idea where he was but she supposed she didn’t much care. Glancing around the room once more to be certain that he was nowhere in sight she grinned and dove onto the big squishy sofa, sinking down deep into its cushions. While he abhorred the patchwork velvet couch she was sure he’d disapprove of her jumping into it like a child. Spinning around to press her back into the back of it she paused, noticing for the first time a sliding glass door on the far side of the room. Had that been there before and she had somehow overlooked it? She supposed it was possible. But it wasn’t so much the door itself that had really caught her eye as it was what she saw through the other side.

 

It was some sort of patio, or little space that led out into the backyard. And the man in black, seated out on it looking toward the sunset. Hermione rose from the couch a bit unceremoniously and crept toward the door. When she pulled it open she’d expected him to flinch or jump, but then she remembered that he was a former spy and had probably heard her long before she’d even approached. For a moment she just stood there, half in the house and half out, staring down at him. It was the most peculiar sight she’d ever laid eyes on. Severus Snape, though fully dressed as if he were about to teach a classroom full of Hogwarts students, sitting in an old wooden rocking chair, rocking slowly back and forth facing the sunset with his eyes closed as if he’d fallen asleep waiting for the sun to retire itself from the sky.

 

She made to creep back into the house but his words stopped her. “If you’re going to interrupt you should learn to do so more quietly,” he muttered though his eyes remained closed.

 

Hermione had decided that morning that she was not going to let him bait her into bitter responses and fights. She would not give him cause to throw her out nor would she sink to his level of sarcasms. “I didn’t know you had a patio,” she said quietly.

 

“I am slowly running out of sacred places in this house to call my own.”

 

It was another baited line. But she was determined to ignore it. She glanced around the little patio, just the rocking chair and a table beside it. No place for her to sit but she didn’t mind. Hermione pulled the door shut behind her and then slunk down onto the cement, leaning back against the glass. She stared out across the yard. It was fenced in with high wooden planks that were once upon a time brown. Weather and time had flecked away their paint and stripped them in places leaving them looking less than finished. Two trees sat in the far left corner of the yard, and an empty garden bed ran across the back of the fence. There was a derelict tool shed in the right corner and patchy grass the rest of the way across. Her mind briefly flickered over the possibility of stringing up a hammock between the two trees as summer would be coming in just a few months, but she realized in order to do that she would actually need to possess a hammock. Or a lot of rope.

 

The evening breeze was warm on her cheek, peculiar for April as it was usually chilly with rain, but she didn’t question it. Hermione closed her eyes as she rested her head against the glass, the soft sound of the wooden rocker drifting back and forth in the breeze the only sound other than the wind itself. Her mind churned through the possibilities of all the different things he could be thinking about. What had brought him out back to the patio, had he been rocked to sleep in that chair as a young boy; so many things running through her mind. She opened her eyes and gazed at him from the ground, tracing the strong contours of his face with her eyes. He was older, she knew, but in the sunset he looked almost youthful, the bright golden rays seeming to melt away the years. And at the same time bringing them back to his hair; she noticed the slightest hint of silver in his onyx locks, just at his temple slithering back behind his ear. She supposed it was hidden away with the style in which he wore his hair, but it was enough to make her blush.

 

He was an older man. She was sleeping with an older man, even if it was just for work. Someone who had been alive long before she had been thought of. It made her tingle and she forced the thought from her mind. There was no sense in getting excited about the fact that she was living with the man that she was working with and that their line of work also happened to involve sex. She was certain, given the way he’d treated her in his home thus far, that no matter how many moments there were to be caught up in, he would never see what they were doing as anything more than work. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around why she had suddenly started trying to see it as anything else. It wasn’t as if she were attracted to his body; that delicious body that only quivered in pleasure when he was absolutely forced to.

 

She rationalized that no woman in the universe that found herself to be of the heterosexual persuasion would have been able to dislike his cock. Thinking about how long and thick it was, the way it filled her, and how easily he could ram it into her made her whole body ignite. And basking in the sunset with a warm breeze just made it heaven. Hermione’s mind was fantasizing about what it would be like if he were to have his way with her. The unrestrained passion that she’d only sampled in him; suddenly thrust upon her. It was a wicked dizzy daydream; him stalking into her room for purposes unknown, pinning her down beneath his body and devouring her mouth with his own. She shuddered and then quickly forced herself to think about the hammock she wanted to create in the backyard. Anything to take her mind off of the ridiculous notion of being taken by Severus Snape.

 

But thoughts of the hammock only led to how they could easily get tangled up in it and how much give it would have as he was pounding into her, perhaps even in her ass. It thrilled and embarrassed her to realize just how much pleasure he’d given her by penetrating her backside; a prospect that before she’d begun working with him she’d considered crude, depraved, and perverted. Thinking on it now just made her thighs burn with desire to feel him again, filling her anyway he could. Hermione pressed her lips firmly together to keep any inadvertent stray sounds from escaping.

 

She could just imagine her body pressed into the coarse netting of the hammock; her breasts and stomach baring cross-hatched marks from it as he would pound her from behind; filling her and making her squeal in delight until they would both topple out of the hammock and continuing fucking on the dirt below. Her body shuddered again, slightly harder than before and she forced her eyes tightly shut trying to push the idea out of her mind.

 

“I would find other things to think about if I were you, Miss Granger.” His voice was cautionary and she gazed up at him wide-eyed. He was staring down at her with a curious yet peevish look on his face, one eyebrow quirked up inquisitively.

 

“You—” she sputtered, her face flushing horribly red. “Were you reading— oh!” she cried in a huff and propelled herself up from the ground. Hermione stormed back into the house, certain she could hear him chuckling back out on the porch. She all but took the door to her bedroom off its hinges when she slammed it shut behind her. “Ugh!” she cried aloud flopping face forward down into her mattress. He had been reading her thoughts! How dreadfully embarrassing. Of course if she had just been able to keep her mind from being so naughty when it came to him, but he still had no business poking about in her mind. She was furious and intended to tell him just that.

 

Hermione pulled herself back up off her bed and stalked to the door, throwing it open. “Oh!” she cried slamming right into his chest. “You!” she narrowed her eyes and then balled her up fists at her side. She had never been a violent person but something made her want to swing at him in that moment. As she made to strike she found both of her tiny wrists caught up in the air, clutched firmly in just one of his big hands. “Let me— oh!” she shrieked as he spun her around, twisting her wrists just a bit as he pulled her firmly back against his body.

 

“Listen very carefully to me, Miss Granger,” his voice was so low that had his lips not been right at the back of her ear she wouldn’t have heard him. Hermione’s heart was racing; her chest rising and falling in quick gasps of breath that made her legs tremble. Had it not been for the way he held her back against his body she was sure the sheer shock would have sent her tumbling to the floor. He did not slacken his grip on her wrists, rather he twisted her arms down and back until they were pinned behind her, between their bodies. “I will not have your mind running wild, Miss Granger,” his tongue was practically snaking against the back of her ear.

 

She whimpered; a sound that expressed so many things in that moment. A hint of fear, he had never lashed out in that manner before. A touch of fury, how dare he behave so brutishly? A bit of exhilaration; their bodies were pressed so close together. And arousal; it was impossible to deny how much being snatched up by him was turning her on. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, but that only made her feel him all the more. The way his hot breath radiated against her neck, his nose bumping against the back of her ear, the hand that was not holding her wrists now wrapped firmly around her waist. Hermione shivered.

 

“As if I don’t have enough to contend with, now I have you underfoot and I will not have you thinking those sort of thoughts,” he growled. And then they were moving; her feet stumbling forward as he pushed her back into her bedroom without releasing her. Down onto the bed she went, momentarily freed from his arms. Hermione caught herself on her palms and scrambled around to face him long enough to see him ripping off his shirt. She was paralyzed. Severus without a shirt was certainly one thing but seeing him now, in her bedroom as he whipped the belt from his trousers made her tremble to the point of being able to do little else.

 

She shrieked as he snapped his fingers, wordlessly vanishing her clothes. Her core was soaked; burning for him and her whole body quaked, eyes wide as he began to climb onto the bed, pushing her down into the mattress. The weight of him was nearly enough to make her come; just feeling the sheer heat and force with which he pinned her down. So intimate; so personal, and she was moaning despite herself. Severus bowed his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, nipping the pebbled bud of flesh and drawing forth a shriek of pleasure from Hermione.

 

His hands were roaming up and down her body, touching her without hesitation, pushing her thighs apart and tugging at his trousers all in one motion. Hermione wriggled her hips, desperate to feel him, panting and squirming, whimpering and moaning as his other hand kneaded her breast. There was so much heat; her body nearly about to combust as he abruptly thrust himself into her. She cried out, her voice practically raw, feeling how tightly he filled her and the way he began to pummel her; hard and fast. There had been no foreplay; just his cock, ravishing her. She was mewling with each thrust; punctuating every inward stroke with an orgasmic cry that left her breathless.

 

He was passionate, pumping into her in a way that she’d never experienced in the workshop; even when he’d had her in his bed to delicately take her anal virginity it had not been so consumed with lust as it was now. Her body was soaring with pleasure, so much skin on skin, his trousers somehow vanished leaving his bare body tangling with hers. She drew her legs up around his hips, drawing them even closer together, burning to melt into him. His lips were trailing away from her breast, suckling at her throat, hands everywhere. In her hair, on her body, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples and then there was a hand between her thighs, furiously rubbing at her clit as he continued to fuck her with reckless abandon.

 

Every hard stroke made her moan; the way her walls gripped at him, trying to clutch his pulsating shaft, pulling him into her all the more. Her heart felt as if it might burst inside her chest; so hot and intense was her body. Her toes began to curl upward and she could hear herself keening; lips barely parted as she felt his tongue at the hot sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. Little jolts of pleasure pricked up and down her spine as he slammed even harder and faster into her; practically tearing her apart.

 

“You shall not be naughty, Miss Granger,” his voice was close to her ear as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Miss Granger,” she heard him again and her body was practically on fire, near bursting. “Miss Granger!”

 

Hermione was startled, her eyes wide as she glanced around. The bright orange light of the setting sun nearly burned her eyes and she winced turning her head to the side. Her neck was stiff and she could feel her body flushing. Severus was staring down at her from the rocking chair, his facial features looking less than pleased. And it occurred to her in that moment that she had in fact day dreamed herself right to sleep. She blushed furiously. She only hoped that her vocalizations from the dream had not been heard by him. He continued to stare at her for a moment and she bit her lower lip, and then crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. For a brief moment she worried that he was reading her thoughts as he had in her dream, but when he looked away from her she heaved a great sigh of relief.

 

She shifted a bit, her legs tingling with the pins and needles of having fallen asleep in an awkward position. Wondering why he hadn’t just left her there she quickly realized that she was blocking the door back into the house. Standing with a little difficulty she hung her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled, receiving in return an annoyed sigh.

 

“If I had needed you out of the way I could have moved you,” he said. “Or shaken you awake. Which I was going to do if you didn’t respond to me just now.” He paused a moment, turning his head to her once more. “You were crying out in your sleep…you sounded as if you were in terrible pain.”

 

It shocked her to hear him say this, but she noted no extra concern in his voice, not even the slightest hint of interest; just a vague observation as if he were reporting on the clouds that had passed by while she slept. She supposed it was better that he had assumed her in pain; she would have died from sheer embarrassment if he had known that the cries in her dream were not from a nightmare, but from a savage sexual desire that had involved him. She was going round the twist and off her head all at once; daydreaming about the man and having full on sexual dreams that caused her to cry out. Hermione worried the petal of her lower lip between her teeth. “Must have been a nightmare,” she whispered, gazing down at him. “I’m going in for tea— you do have tea, don’t you?” she asked.

 

That was a conversation they had yet to have. How food and things in the kitchen would work. Naturally she didn’t expect them to be cooking together or even sharing meals together, but she did want to know if there was going to be a strict break down as to what belonged to whom and so forth. When he didn’t respond right away she wondered if perhaps the dreaded answer to her question was no— that he was not in fact in current possession of any tea, but the more she thought about it the more absurd she realized it was. He was English; of course he had tea. She waited patiently for him to respond and when she’d made it quite clear by her lingering presence that she was waiting she repeated herself. “Well?”

 

A long sigh left his lips. “Top cabinet near the stove, though don’t go mucking about take whatever’s easiest to reach,” he snapped and left it at that.

 

The question should have been what sort of tea didn’t he have. The man could have easily opened his own herbal shop given the vast variety that was stored neatly in tins that filled the cabinet. They were stacked and layered on a tri-tiered lazy Susan that filled the entire cabinet. She’d settled for a lavender jasmine green blend and then put the kettle on. Had she had the foresight she would have asked him where the mugs were, but remembered that there had been one in her steamer trunk. It was easier to just go and fetch her own rather than banging about in the kitchen, tiny as it was. Though she supposed eventually she would have learn where he kept everything.

 

The sun had sank down into the night when he finally came in off the back porch and she couldn’t help but wonder if he often sat watching the sunsets. Not as of late at the very least as they’d been spending their evenings in the shop, but before he’d fallen into the employ of George Weasley but after the war; a time where there was peace, or a semblance thereof in his life, she wondered. Hermione knew that during the war her own life had not warranted time to take in such simple miracles as the sunset; it had merely been a marker of time, the sun was going down and so another day had passed. But now, as she thought on it, having an evening to watch the sun sinking down into the horizon marked time in a different fashion.

 

She’d sat at the table sipping from the mug of tea, fiddling with a crossword puzzle book that she’d found in the attic at The Burrow. This book in particular had a myriad of hard puzzles with mostly muggle clues from a few years back, many of which she had no idea how to answer. When he stepped into the kitchen she hadn’t expected him to speak or even really stop and acknowledge her. But he stood there, staring at her for a long moment, looking contemplative. She met his gaze with curiosity, holding her tongue. “A sight that never in my wildest imagination would I have believed a possibility let alone an actuality,” he nodded at her. She watched with a surprised interest as he relit the flame on the stove and placed the kettle back atop it.

 

It was his kitchen, but she had not figured that he would stop and fix tea whilst she remained there. Hermione had no intentions of getting up just because he wanted to make tea, though he hadn’t said anything other than that her presence was beyond his wildest imagination. Which she supposed, the more she mulled the notion over in her head, was much beyond her own vivid mind. To be living under the same roof as Severus Snape was preposterous. It had been different when they both dwelt in the Hogwarts Castle. 700 other students and a good handful of faculty, ghosts, portraits and house elves had kept them from ever having to encounter one another outside of the classroom, save of course for the odd spot of trouble in which she and her friends had often found themselves. Here at Spinner’s End it was a completely different story. Close quarters, not even as big as the Gryffindor Common Room had been, sharing a kitchen and a bathroom; things were very different from Hogwarts.

 

If she’d been surprised when he’d made himself a cuppa, she was stunned when he sat down opposite her at the table. At first she didn’t know what to say. It was an unnerving situation. Him sitting just across from her, slowly sipping his tea, her with a half-finished crossword puzzle on the tabletop in front of her, nearly empty cuppa just beside her hands. The silence was what did her in, not so much his presence, but she had always been comforted by talking, though she had never been fond of small talk. “Might I ask you something?” she said after what felt like an eternity.

 

“Does that question count as the something?” he said flatly.

 

While his tone and general dismissive behavior was irritating she realized that she was quickly growing accustomed to it. She hadn’t even been in his house a full week yet and already she was learning the tones of his voice and ignoring them. He would not bait her into fighting nor bristle her feathers with his acerbic tongue. Hermione took a final swallow of her tea and then pushed the mug aside, gazing across the table at him. “When you said before that you didn’t particularly identify with one sexual preference or another, did you say that because you don’t find yourself being drawn to one more than the other or because you simply don’t find yourself to be sexual?”

 

She was prepared for a litany of insults, and a thorough reminder that it was none of her business. So when he remained silent, simply holding her gaze as she held his, Hermione began to squirm slightly in her chair. It had been foolish to ask, she realized a bit too late, but her mind’s curiosity was not so simply sated. And he had, albeit half-heartedly, agreed that getting to know more about him might be a good idea. The silence between them seemed to settle in her stomach, creating a great deal of churning and whirling, making her feel uneasy. As if at any moment he might launch into a vocal tirade or worse, suddenly become inexplicably physical as he had in her dream. Though the latter option sent a shiver of a very different variety up her spine.

 

“Genders as they are constructed in society hold little meaning to me,” he started. It was a simple statement, emotionless, toneless, factual. “When it comes to men or women it might be said that I see no difference,” he paused a moment, taking a drink from his cup. “Woman, man, it matters not they are essentially the same, an orifice is an orifice.” The look of abject shock must have registered on her face for he was then quirking an eyebrow and continuing. “That is not to say that I will simply stick my prick into anything, I do draw the line at humans and humanoid species, Miss Granger.”

 

It was a delicate situation, a bit like having anti-matter swinging by a single filament in-between the walls of its container; fascinating yet apocalyptically destructive. She was drinking in his every word, her brain not fast enough to process it all. Her mind was a whirling dervish, trying to think on which species were closely enough related to humans that he might also consider having relations with, though she found the further down that curious path she traveled the more tingly her nether bits were getting. “Are you pansexual then?” she asked but then frowned. Hermione shook her head. “Though I suppose that’s a ridiculous thing to ask.”

 

“Why is it ridiculous?” his tone was no more or less meaningful than it had been moments before, his eyes still gazing at her. Though he seemed more intently focused. She wondered if he was as curious as she, though she very much doubted it. Hermione surmised in the back of her mind that he was deriving some great joy from making her uncomfortable, even if his face remained impassive, everything about him looking completely neutral. Save for his eyes, which were swirling with an endless depth of emotions that were completely unreadable.

 

His question had caused her to flush slightly; the heat of her embarrassment gently trickling into her cheeks and giving her face a soft pink color. Hermione swallowed and then slowly stood from the table. Plucking up the strainer she poured herself a second cuppa tea before settling back down. The heat radiated through the ceramic into her palms as she clutched it closely between her hands. She took a sip and then leveled her eyes to his once more. “Pansexuals crave touch and contact.”

 

Severus scoffed slightly. “There is much more to pansexuality than simply craving contact, Miss Granger,” he said. For a moment she had expected the conversation to end. But when he spoke she found herself listening with rapt attentions. “A person whom identifies themselves as being of a pansexual nature finds attraction be it physical emotional or sexual to a myriad of people outside the simple gender binary. Cis-gendered as well as transgendered individuals, inter-gendered individuals and those that are androgynous.” He paused a moment, his eyes holding hers carefully. She realized that as she listened to him talk, even though he was doing so as if he were lecturing from his days as a professor, that the slight dampness between her legs was quickly spreading into a lagoon. She had to get a handle on the way he affected her or just living in his presence was going to drive her bonkers.

 

“And you don’t find yourself attracted those sorts of people, but don’t identify as a bisexual either?” Again her lips had been moving without her mind to censor what came out of them.

 

He paused and Hermione assumed that her question had once again brought about an end to their little conversation. Naturally he was bound to have a breaking point and if he overall state of perpetual irritation when it came to her was any indication she was certain he was just about past it. But after another dreadfully uncomfortable silence he spoke. “I would not say that I am not attracted to such people, simply that I have not encountered them.” She noted the way he shrugged his shoulders; the slightest of gestures but a shrug just the same.

 

“And if you were to come across someone who was androgynous? Or inter-gendered?” she heard herself asking, half disbelieving that they were actually having such a conversation. Sexuality, and its orientations thereof, was an incredibly intimate subject matter on which to be talking. Especially with her former professor, who was now her current housemate and work partner. Hermione couldn’t deny how fascinating it was to learn this things about him, every word being stored away in the back of her mind for further analysis at a later date. But she was certain that at any moment he would say he’d had enough of her chattering and her inane questioning and send her on her way to her room. Or get up and leave her at the kitchen table with some snide parting remark.

 

“I suppose I wouldn’t know until I came across such a person.” His voice was indifferent. And it fascinated her to no end how casual such a statement could be for Severus Snape. She realized just in thinking his name that there was so very little she actually knew about him. His words cut through her thoughts, startling her but only just so. “Is there anything else, while I find myself in this unusually giving mood?” he asked, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

 

While she could feel her cheeks turning scarlet once more she didn’t want to waste the opportunity. He’d said it best, his sudden mood of wanting to share information was indeed rare and there was no telling when it might surface again, if at all. So she tried to think carefully before speaking. “You’re particularly unresponsive—” she bit her lower lip. “That’s not entirely true, I suppose what I’m getting at is you just…you’re very restrained…” her voice trailed off realizing that it wasn’t so much a question as an observation. “Why do you hold back?” she asked finally.

 

At first he did not answer and Hermione worried that she’d over stepped. Of course the whole conversation was one giant overstep into his personal space, toeing the line of boundaries with a fine breaking point waiting just under every question. When he spoke she felt silly and a bit more than embarrassed. “For the same reason one would assume you do, Miss Granger. Such an intimate experience of pleasure can be quite embarrassing when expressed aloud.”

 

She had worried the petal of her lower lip between her teeth, biting down so hard she was sure to draw blood, but spoke quickly once he’d answered her. “I don’t try to hold back…just, erm, hide it, I suppose,” she felt her cheeks burning even more red than they had been but moments ago. “You’re different— you’re forcing yourself not to— I mean, it’s different. I’m just trying to be discreet…” though her face flushed all the more when she said that, realizing just how not discreet she had been when the cosmic stars from the penis paint had practically sent her over the edge howling in the workshop. “You—”

 

“I maintain a modicum of professionalism?” he offered, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “It is no small effort on my part, a fact which I am certain you will oh so plainly point out to me. Another one of your observations, no doubt.” He paused and drained the dregs of his teacup. “However, I do not find the workshop the appropriate place for such behavior, we’re being employed to test products of a sexual nature for their functionality and novelty purpose, not for our own personal pleasure.”

 

His response floored her. Was it really just such a clinical thing for him? Just a job? Though she supposed that it was exactly that for her as well and that thinking otherwise was not only absurd but beyond reprimand. She forced her gaze level and continued to look into his eyes. “But there are times when you—”

 

“I’m not infallible, Miss Granger, after all I’m only a man,” he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He rose from the table and rinsed his mug in the sink, returning it to the cabinet once he’d dried it with a worn tea towel. Severus leaned back against the sink, arms once again crossed over his chest, staring at her. It was the most casual stance she had ever seen the man take; and although he still looked intimidating in a sense, she realized that he also looked comfortable. At ease in his own home, as a man ought to be in his house, no airs or pretentions about him just a simplicity that reminded her of the truth of his statement. He was just a man. Her lips were pursed to speak but he raised his hand and shook his head. “Whatever else it is you’ve gleaned enough about me for one night, I think.”

 

Her lips pouted but then she spoke. “I was going to ask do you find me attractive,” she countered. While it hadn’t been her initial question it had been close enough. And it was something that she found herself craving the answer to, even if it was foolish to want to know. After all they were not lovers and she merely found herself sharing his home for the convenience of it all. He had proven more than satisfactory during trials at the workshop so whether or not he found her sexually appealing was truly of little consequence.

 

Her question had caused him to straighten up. And her spine went rigid as he stepped toward her, standing now at the side of her chair an inch between their bodies. She was forced to crane her neck upward to look at him properly, her heart racing inside her chest as she did. “I believe, Miss Granger, that you’ve asked a question which bears no answer.” He paused for just a second before continuing. “If I say no, surely it will wound your self-esteem and perhaps give you performance anxiety, a complication that I would care not to have to deal with in George Weasley’s Workshop. And if I say yes, you’re bound to concoct in your head that I have some latent desire for you that I refuse to pursue because of our current working situation. Another circumstance that I do not find myself eager to experience.”

 

Hermione shivered when his hand brushed a mass of her curls back from her face. She’d felt his touch more than a dozen times, and in far more intimate places than the side of her cheek, but in that moment he made her lungs tingle as she held her breath waiting for him to move away or say something further; anything but hover just alongside of her. Every hair on the back of her neck was standing straight on end, her arms covered in gooseflesh as he leaned his head downward so that his lips were just near her ear. “You mistake me in assuming that I do not crave physical contact…” his voice was a whisper that sent a jolt up her spine. She closed her eyes and found herself leaning her head forward, the heat of his breath practically beckoning her to do so. Severus touched the backs of two fingers against her cheek, tracing the subtle curve down to her jaw before removing his hand and straightening up. She practically whimpered in protest at the lost contact. “Judging from your reaction and by your poor definition one might accuse you of being pansexual,” he muttered.

 

She flushed furiously then, her cheeks burning scarlet and not just because she was mortified at the way she had responded to him. His touch; that gentle caress had left her reeling and it had been barely more than a slight sweep of his digits against her skin. He’d spoken; words or something about pansexuality, and then she realized he’d addressed her. “Oh!” she bowed her head and then quickly looked up at him again. “N-no, I’m not er…I’ve never found myself attracted to another female.”

 

He didn’t speak for a long while and Hermione could feel her heart still racing in her chest. It was ridiculous; his close proximity setting her off as it had. She forced her mind to focus. Pushing herself out of the chair she found herself standing quite close to him and swallowed hard as she met his eyes once more. She parted her lips to speak but her breath hitched in her throat as his slender finger pressed against her mouth. “There isn’t always a need to speak, Miss Granger,” he said. Severus trailed the finger slowly across the curve of her cupid’s bow and down to the slightly swollen petal of her lower lip before pulling his hand back and then taking a step back from her.

 

It wasn’t until he’d disappeared down the corridor to his bedroom that she’d even noticed he was no longer touching her. Hermione’s head was spinning and her heart was still pumping quite fiercely. She mentally chided herself for responding to him as she had; and then she rinsed her mug and headed to her bedroom. Only she found that when she was standing in the hallway between his door and hers, with his slightly ajar that all she wanted to do was enter his room. There was no rhyme or reason motivating her, not a scrap of logic to be applied to the situation. And for several moments she stood in the hallway debating about whether or not to be bold and invite herself in. Hadn’t he been subtly hinting that he craved contact? And that he couldn’t tell her he found her attractive because it would insinuate them into a situation that he didn’t find appropriate? Or had she merely been over thinking everything he’d just said as she usually did.

 

The door pulled inward, startling her, and his presence appearing in the doorframe made her gasp audibly. He was donned in just a night robe, the fine black hairs that sprinkled his chest peeking out from where the robe was tied together. His legs were bare and she swallowed hard, wondering if he was completely naked beneath the garment. She had been staring without realizing it and when his eyebrows quirked high on his forehead she quickly adverted her gaze.

 

“The way you stare, Miss Granger, one would think you’d never seen a man wear a night robe,” he muttered and then brushed beside her, their bodies touching for a moment as he padded casually to the bathroom, entering it without closing the door behind him. Was it another invitation or was he simply being blasé and trying to bait her? For a moment she stood rooted to her spot, unable to think or move, her body so paralyzed by the sight of him. But then her courage seemed to seep in, flooding through her like a wave and she was quickly following him to the bathroom, slipping in behind him in and closing the door. It was madness. Either she was about to experience something insanely inappropriate and wildly sexual or she was about to be thrown out on her ear, possibly even displaced from his home altogether. But something was pulsing in her gut; a lusty need that seemed to drive her to take the chance.

 

“You are bold, Miss Granger,” he said casually, his back to her as he fiddled with the faucet in the tub, adjusting the showerhead up a bit. He turned to face her, arms crossing over his chest as he did. “What do you want?”

 

She felt very much vexed by his simple question for she had nothing but a dozen complicated answers. Though she couldn’t think of a single one that would end well if she spoke it aloud. Hermione bowed her head for a moment before glancing up to meet his gaze once more. The shower was running hard behind him little tendrils of steam curling their way around his body; the image it created giving her pause. How yummy it would be to see him completely naked, soaked by the shower with his hair wet and clinging to his neck. She quickly chased the image from her mind while trying to find her voice. “I…”

 

“Any other time you seem to find words a plenty with which to eat up my precious silence…” he shook his head and then turned his back to her, a half-hearted dismissive wave in her general direction signaling that he was through with the unfinished conversation.

 

“A blow job…” her voice was meek, her words tremulous as she spoke them. But it was enough to make him pause, his frame going rigid as he slowly turned his head back over his shoulder meeting her nervous gaze. “You said— and you know that I’ve never— I just don’t want to fail at it, so perhaps I could— well you could…could show me?”

 

His heavy sigh filled the room. “If nothing else you are persistent, Miss Granger.” His hands were in front of him, moving to undo the tie of his robe, the fabric going slack as he began to shrug out of it. “But I shall have my shower first.” Without another word he let his robe slide down his frame and stepped into the steamy running water.

 

Hermione, not knowing what else to do, backed out of the bathroom, feeling dreadfully embarrassed. She tucked herself away in her room, curled up on her bed, with her back facing the door. Her body was still humming with a strange sensation; arousal mixed with terror and she didn’t quite know how to handle such a feeling. Her thoughts were deep and brooding as she lie there, trying to organize her mind, silently praying that he would leave the shower and ignore her foolish request. Though a part of her knew that it was practical, and another part of her desperately wanted more of his touch, regardless the capacity. Most of her wished she was someplace else and that she hadn’t been so stupid as to open her mouth.

 

When the gentle knock resounded on her bedroom door she shivered. Squeezing her eyes shut tight she uncurled her body and slowly sat up on her bed, facing the door. “Come in.”

 

Severus pushed the door open and stepped into her room, closing it behind him. She was surprised that he donned his robe, though she hadn’t really expected him to arrive stark naked to her room. Aside from his damp locks and the faintest hint of soap in the air he looked no different than when he had stood in the bathroom before his shower. She did her best not to look nervous as he approached her. He stopped, standing just in front of her eyes gazing down at her. “This is not something I have ever had to teach,” he said.

 

Hermione wondered if that meant he was as nervous as she was. Though if he was his body didn’t let on, he looked as calm and collected then as any other time she had seen him. She understood the basic concepts of how such an act worked, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t placed her mouth around him and tasted him the other day when she got a bit overzealous. But the notion of how to perform fellatio with accuracy, to bring a man to release, she wasn’t certain it would be as easy in practice as it was in theory. And that made her stomach churn wildly, threatening to leap up through her throat and out of her mouth. She held his gaze, the lower petal of her lip pressed tightly between her teeth, worry etched clearly into her features.

 

His hand reached slowly forward and he cupped her chin. Severus pressed his thumb against her lip and with a little pressure she stopped biting it. Hermione could feel her body trembling, and she wished she’d changed into something other than her day clothes. She couldn’t imagine that she too would need to be naked for such an experience, only her mouth was needed, but at the moment she felt stifling and uncomfortable. Her eyes must have belayed her terror because he rolled his eyes at her. “Stand up and take your shirt off.”

 

Her mind couldn’t fathom it, but her body was more than willing to obey and she found herself up on her feet slipping her arms out of the sleeves before she could protest. She stood before him in her bra and her jeans, knickers already damp and sticky just from thinking about what was about to happen. The little gesture he made with his hand caused her to flush as her trembling fingers reached behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her topless before; hell his mouth had been plenty intimate with her nipples from their very first day in the workshop. But this was different. He was in her bedroom, the room in his house that before three days ago had never existed. And he was wearing nothing but a thin night robe, having her slowly undress herself.

 

Hermione yelped, surprised when he placed both hands atop her shoulders, bringing their bodies together before sliding around behind where she stood. “You are far too jumpy, you’ll close your throat off or bite and I won’t have that,” he said his voice calm and even. “You need to relax, Miss Granger.” She heard the depression of his weight on her mattress, her back now to him, her body exposed. “Pull that mop up off your neck and sit here on the bed.” She glanced over her shoulder to see him patting the space between his legs. Thrilling jolts of terrified excitement raced up and down her spine, shocking her core, causing little gushes of heated moisture to further soak her knickers.

 

It took her a moment to gather up her hair in a messy bun of frizzy curls but she stabbed it with an elongated quill pen, perching the bun precariously high atop her head. “Is that alright?” she asked, her voice timid.

 

Severus didn’t seem impressed though he didn’t roll his eyes either. “It’s out of the way, it will suffice.” He nodded his head to the space where he had indicated she should sit and then held her gaze, waiting. Her steps were even more timid than her voice had been, each one that brought her back to the bed making her quake inside so fiercely that she was sure he could feel it. What was he going to do to her? Hermione sank slowly down onto the mattress, just barely resting her weight on it at first, but his large hands were on her hips just at the edge of her jeans and pulled her down and back a bit more firmly, causing her to gasp. “Relax, Miss Granger.” He repeated and then slowly let his hands glide up her back until they were resting atop her shoulders.

 

“Ooh…” she moaned, her neck and shoulders stiffening as he pressed both of his thumbs into the notches where her shoulder blades met, fingers digging into the flesh atop her shoulders. He began to knead at her skin, working his fingers up and down, his thumbs pressing hard into her back. “Why…ooh…” she moaned again, her head falling forward slightly, her jaw going slack as she felt him applying a forceful pressure just at the base of her skull.

 

“Do not think that this is Snape’s house of massage, Miss Granger, however with as tense as you are you’re liable to choke or bite and make this a nasty experience for everyone involved.” His hands continued to stroke and grip the slender column of her neck, working up into her hair with the pads of his fingers and then slowly all the way down to the space between her ribs and her pelvis. His thumbs worked each notch of her spine, Hermione leaning further forward and becoming a loose pliable mass of flesh beneath his ministrations. He was rough, but not brutal; forceful but not painful and she could feel the heat radiating from his palms and fingertips directly into her skin, shooting through her body and straight to her core. She moaned every time he struck a knot, working with an even more intense pressure to undo the tension that she carried.

 

She’d all but fallen over herself, breasts pressed against the tops of her thighs with her eyes closed when his hands stilled against her back, palms still touching her. It had felt wonderful and she didn’t care why he’d decided she needed it. Her mind was goo, sludgy and slow as she tried to wrap her head around the notion that he was quite skilled with his hands and seemed to know more than a thing or two about massage. His hands were now gripping the sides of her body, easing her into an upright position. When her head leveled out and she was gazing forward once more she noted that he had climbed up from behind her and was once again standing in front of her. “Focus, Miss Granger,” he said, placing one hand on her shoulder.

 

That voice; slippery like oil, which would have been the only conceivable way to make that massage more intense. But it held a note of command and she found she was compelled to obey, wondering if his voice was somehow enchanted with something similar to the Imperius curse. She wondered if he knew the effect his voice could have on people, and somewhere in the back of her mind suspected that he did. She gazed up at him, realizing how close he was standing to her, with his hand still resting atop her shoulder and she nodded her head. “I am.” Her voice was scratchy, low and almost lusty and she could feel the slight hint of blush coloring her cheeks when she heard the way she sounded. Hermione no longer noticed that she was topless, though her nipples protested the chill of the room by stiffening defiantly.

 

Severus did not speak at first. He took her hands in his and held them for a moment before placing her fingers just at the front of his robe. “You should be comfortable with your partner,” he started, his voice low but steady. “Know your limitations and know when to back down, there is no sense in trying to be overzealous if it’s going to end in discomfort or injury.” The ease he had created within her with his massage was slowly seeping out of her as he spoke; always so clinical. She held his gaze waiting for him to speak again. “Undo the tie on my robe,” he said, eyes never leaving hers.

 

Hermione’s fingers felt thick as if they’d fallen asleep or had never before attempted a dexterous task. They fumbled over the delicate material of the tie for several moments before finally managing to undo it. The sides of his robe fell easily away revealing his body to her. She’d seen him bared before, even felt him pressed against her when he’d taken her in his bed, but her breath still hitched in her throat when she found herself face to face with his naked figure. He was not unattractive, though she tried not to think about the strong muscles of his thighs or the way his pubic hair was still manicured into the shapely lightning bolt. She hadn’t suspected that he’d be completely flaccid and it unnerved her just a little to think that he had such control over himself that he could touch her as he had when seated behind her and it have no effect on his body.

 

“You really are an open book,” he muttered and tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Your face practically spells out every thought that is racing through your overworked mind.” His lips curled into a faint smirk as she blushed. “Try not to look so disappointed, it won’t help you learn anything if half the work is already done for you.”

 

She nodded her head and tried to keep her features as passive as his face, but knew that would be impossible. She couldn’t just shut herself off the way he could, though she made a mental note to request a lesson on that at some point in the future. Hermione’s fingers still trembled as he guided her hands forward, placing her palms flat against the front of his thighs. He stood with his feet parted slightly and then stepped forward, bumping his knee against hers. He pushed her legs apart, now standing between them, his pelvis just at her face. Her bed put her at the perfect height, sitting up straight brought her mouth just level with his cock. She bit her lower lip once more but quickly released the petal when she noted how he stared at her.

 

“You’ve already helped yourself to my release in an over curious attempt…” he trailed off, making reference to the way she’d captured the tip of him in her mouth when he came the previous day in the workshop. It made her blush thinking about it, even more so when she remembered what she had whispered to him after tasting him. “So it should not come as a shock to you to do it again.” He nodded at her and then braced a hand on her shoulder.

 

Hermione for all the world could not fathom how she should begin. It seemed simply enough, press her lips to his shaft, or maybe his tips and lick him, take him in her mouth until he was hard and go from there. But the prospect of it paralyzed her, her eyes wide just staring at his member. His voice broke her whirring mind apart and her eyes drifted up to his once more.

 

“It’s not Ancient Runes, you know,” he said and then placed one hand on the side of her face, slowly guiding her cheek forward. “Start simply,” he whispered, one finger gently stroking the side of her jaw. “Take the tip between your lips and circle it with your tongue.” Hearing him speak sent a shiver racing down her spine and her legs twitched feeling the pulsation between her thighs. But she complied, slowly bracing one hand against the coarse hairs of his thigh, the other curling around his shaft to bring the head against her lips.

 

“You’re circumcised,” she found herself saying, lips pressing delicately against the tip of him.

 

Severus raised an eyebrow upon his forehead, gazing down at her. “And you are just now noticing this?”

 

She could feel the sting in her cheeks, despite her lips being pressed just at the tip of him. Her hand remained curled around his shaft, already feeling the slight pulsation of him growing erect. “I…” she licked her lips and cleared her throat. “No, I just hadn’t thought to mention it before. R—” she bit her lower lip and blushed harder. It wouldn’t do to bring up Ronald Weasley, certainly not in front of him and especially not when he was naked and attempting to instruct her on how to provide oral pleasure. “Really hadn’t thought much about it, just seems,” she shrugged her shoulders. And then her mind was rolling in triplicate trying to figure out what it fascinated her so. Perhaps because most English wizards were not circumcised, though she only had Ron for comparison. And Viktor, though she’d only ever touched him inside of his trousers, not really seeing him. The stories she’d heard from other girls always seemed to involve a delicate handling of the foreskin. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around the notion that he in fact had none.

 

“It just seems?” he said, echoing her unfinished sentence.

 

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know…nevermind,” she closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly; forgetting that her hair was pinned up as she tried to hide the fact that she knew she was now scarlet in the face.

 

“Unorthodox, perhaps,” he said, the hand that had been stroking her jaw now sliding back to cup her cheek. His thumb began to press circles just behind her earlobe and she nodded her head, though whether in agreement with him or because he was pushing on some pleasurable pressure point she couldn’t be sure. “I assure you the reason is not noteworthy and if it isn’t going to bother you going forward—”

 

“Oh no!” she cried and then bit her lower lip. “I mean, no, of course not. I just— surprised is all. Didn’t really have much time to notice in the workshop.”

 

“Indeed.” He said without ever taking his eyes off her. She was once again looking up at him, meeting his gaze with her own, feeling very small under his intense stare. Aside from the fact that he was looming over her with his now semi-erect cock still encased in her hand, the tip near her lips, she felt inferior, the woeful student about to fail before his very eyes. But she listened intently as he spoke. “Take the tip into your mouth, the underside is sensitive, and use your tongue for stimulation.”

 

His instructions were specific and she wondered if this was a technique that could be applicable to all men or specifically for him. Though she imagined most men who were not circumcised might have a much less sensitive underside. Hermione closed her eyes, drawing the tip of him between her lips once more. The head was spongy and felt a bit like rubber. She inhaled; the sensual musk that was his own personal scent invading her nostrils just as it had the day in the workshop. Only this time he wasn’t pulling her away or insisting they move on to whatever it was George had waiting for them. There was no George. They were alone; in her bedroom, she topless and he naked save for the robe still draped over his arms. She could feel him stiffening in her hand and after tenderly flickering her tongue against the underside of his head she pulled back and gazed up at him, as if seeking approval.

 

She noted that his face was, as it always was, unreadable. If she were doing it wrong she would have had no physical indication from him. The same could be said if she were doing it right, and so she waited for him to speak, hoping that he would at the very least simply continue on and that she hadn’t done something to displease him. A miniscule part of her silently begged for praise; the unyielding urge within her to always be doing a good job momentarily surfacing. Hermione gave his now rigid shaft a slow squeeze, something she had done in the workshop before, and watched as his chest rose and fell, slightly off-rhythm. She hid her smile by bowing her head.

 

“It’s a start,” he said and then slowly raked his fingers back along her jaw and up into her hair, threading one hand into the loosely restrained curls, keeping her head steady and level. “You’ll want to pull your lips in over your teeth,” he paused and then drew his own lips into his mouth, a brief visual demonstration before he spoke again. “Keep them firm when you suck the head into your mouth, you don’t have to maneuver your tongue too much, it will naturally move about and you’ll feel it as you do.” He paused and then added. “It is important to only take in what is comfortable, as your backside well knows I am large and I shan’t have you choking on your first attempt.”

 

She supposed it was a kindness, having heard the tales of how men liked to roughly fuck the throats of women until they were gagging and sputtering. The clenching feeling of a gag reflex was supposedly one of the most intensely pleasurable feelings for a cock; all hearsay as far as she was concerned. Hearing him say that he wanted her to be comfortable was a comforting relief and slightly endearing, though she knew better than to take it as such. If anything she knew he was only ensuring that he didn’t end up injured in the process of her gauche attempt to give him head. But she couldn’t keep her mind from wondering if he had had previous experiences with choking, perhaps some strapping man shoving his cock down Severus’ throat turned him off of the idea.

 

Hermione felt his hand slowly guiding her head forward and she pulled her lips over her teeth as he had instructed. Taking him between her lips with her other hand still curled around the base of his shaft she guided him into her mouth slowly, sucking against his shaft until he filled her mouth. Between her mouth and her hand she had most of him well covered, the rounded head of his cock now pressing slightly against the back of her throat. She quickly pulled back, gasping for air.

 

Severus stroked his thumb against her temple. “You need to breathe through your nose or you’re likely to asphyxiate yourself,” he said, the tender stroking now more of a circular motion as he drew her head forward once more. “In and out, your head bobbing forward slightly.” She heard it then, the slightest hint of a crack in his voice and she wondered if he would lose control while trying to instruct her. That eager curiosity drove her to try again, this time pulling him into her mouth more quickly, sliding her lips up and down his length, bobbing her head as he had said.

 

She had been surprised that he was right about her tongue; it moved naturally around the cylindrical shape of his shaft as she pulled him in and out of her mouth. He tasted warm and slightly salty; the velvety texture of his skin hardened by a rigid steel beneath; an impossible sensation to describe. And the scent of him drove her wild, making her thighs quiver, her core gushing little squirts of liquid heat, knowing just how it felt to have that very same cock filling her in other areas. Hermione could feel his body rocking slightly, the way he was breathing indicating that she must have been doing something right. A streak of courage flashed through her and with his cock still in her mouth, her head bobbing, she looked up, watching the way the lines in his face creased. His eyes were closed, though his hand remained guiding her head back and forth, taking just a bit more of him into the heat of her mouth.

 

“This is the basic motion,” he whispered, his voice lower than before, slightly gravelly. And she couldn’t help it as her lips curled into a little smile around his cock. She was clearly having an effect on him and she liked that very much. His other hand threaded into her hair, one hand now on either side of her head, guiding her forward, controlling the pace without forcing his cock into her mouth. She imagined that if he so chose he could have his way with her, fucking her mouth as he pleased in her current position; but she was grateful that he seemed content to simply guide her head back and forth. “Take your other hand and stimulate my balls,” he said, his voice cracking again. “Gently, cupping, rolling, squeezing, you don’t want to be rough.”

 

Hermione was filled with a giddy pleasure; being told how to touch him, how to pleasure him, it enthralled her. She slid her hand down his thigh and underneath his shaft, lifting the weight of his sac into her palm. He was heavy, and felt heated in her hand and this made her moan softly. She had no idea that so much pleasure could be found in providing him with pleasure. Her fingers worked over the delicate sac, rolling him in her palm and doing exactly as he had said, fondling and squeezing with a light touch. She was rewarded with a grunt, the sound of his resolve cracking a bit more.

 

“You’ve proven yourself adept at performance,” his voice was a bit more ragged than before, his hips gently bucking forward against her face, his cock now pistoning in a firm rhythm into her mouth, though not too deeply, his hands clenching around the sides of her head to keep from going too far. Hermione could feel her body heating, her core craving touch, though she dared not move either hand away from him to touch herself. “The key is getting a man to release, which if you know your partner shouldn’t be difficult.”

 

She wasn’t sure if he meant that she should use what she knew of him to trigger his release or if it was just advice in general. But she decided in that moment to be bold, the hand that had previously been cupping the base of his shaft now slinking down between his parted thighs. A single finger stroked across the flat plane of skin between his balls and his ass and she felt him shudder, a deep moan pinched off by his clenched jaw. Hermione continued to bob her head, tightening her lips as her tongue swiveled around the head of his cock. She was daring; that same finger now pressing and gently wriggling against the taut ring of muscles that puckered between his cheeks.

 

This motion seemed to cause him a great wave of sensations as the grip in her hair tightened, almost uncomfortably and his thighs began to tremble. She could feel his sac, still being rolled in her other hand, starting to draw up; the telltale sign that his release was imminent. Moving her head a bit faster, with her finger now stroking at his pucker, she pressed the tip of her finger up into him, earning her a deep groan, unrestrained and wildly carnal sounding to her ear. His muscles clenched tightly against her finger; the heat intense as she curled her finger inward and upward, stroking against the swollen spot inside of him.

 

His hands seized her head, forcing her to stop her bobbing motion and she felt his whole body shudder, accompanied by a deep growling groan. She knew it had been coming and she’d inhaled just as his cock shuddered, the head of his erection pressed halfway into her mouth. The same slightly bitter hot seed that she had tasted before came shooting from his tip, filling her mouth as he quaked. And she drank him back feeling him coming hard, filling her mouth with his release. Hermione breathed in through her nose as she swallowed, the salty taste lingering on her tongue. His fingers were pressed firmly into her scalp, his body rigid as he came. And then she could feel his torso leaning slightly forward against her forehead, the soft hairs below his naval tickling her eyelashes.

 

Hermione was gentle as she swirled her tongue around his shaft, noting how he jerked back when she brushed the softening head of his tip. His cock was wet as it slid from her mouth and for a moment she rested her cheek against his lower abdomen. She could feel his breathing, harsh and heavy as he recovered, the wickedly delicious sound having been her only real warning. She could still taste him on her lips and tongue, licking her cupid’s bow out of habit. Wide eyes gazed up at him as she slowly pulled her head back and waited for him to say something.

 

For the longest time his hands, which had fallen from her hair, rested against her shoulders. Severus stood drawing in breaths to calm himself, eyes still closed. Then he carefully drew his robe around his flaccid member, hiding himself once more. When he opened his eyes she nodded to him, an eager look in her eyes, curious and waiting. He sighed. “It was fine, Miss Granger.”

 

While it wasn’t the praise she had hoped for at least he hadn’t said she was rubbish. She couldn’t allow herself the smile she wanted, but nodded at him instead. “Thank you,” she whispered. Hermione longed to reach out and grab him, to pull him down onto the bed atop her, and feel his lips upon her skin. She wanted his hands and his lips between her legs, hell she didn’t even mind waiting for his body to regenerate enough energy for him to fuck her; but she knew that was as likely as him thanking her for the service.

 

“Remember that post orgasm just like your bits become sensitive…” he nodded at her.

 

Hermione blushed. It made sense, after all, and seemed to justify why he had jerked back from her when her tongue had begun to swipe at the head of his cock after he came. She nodded her head and then stood up. This brought their bodies quite close together, her nipples brushing against the thin fabric of his night robe. She had a thousand questions to ask, a thousand things she wanted to beg of him, but could not find a single one that seemed appropriate. And so she stood with her eyes gazing up into his, their bodies practically pressed together.

 

She expected him to step back or push her down into the bed, but when he just stood there, staring at her, Hermione’s skin began to prickle. It was a fine line that she found herself standing on. Hormones and emotions running high and her body overcome with lusty need. Her head leaned forward as she pressed up on her toes, her lips brushing the side of his mouth. “I…”

 

The hands that were threaded into her hair caused her breath to once again hitch in her throat, her heart beating so fast that it threatened to thump right out of her chest. Her head was pulled back, though gently, and she found herself staring into his swirling black eyes. “I think it best if you retire for the evening, Miss Granger, lest we find ourselves caught up in another one of those moments.” And then he stepped back, releasing her hair. It was like a shot of ice pelting through her as she watched him nod at her and then disappear from her room. The sound of his bedroom door shutting shattered whatever it was she had been feeling and she fell back onto her bed.

 

Hermione forced her eyes shut so that she would not be tempted to cry. There was something wicked and cruel about the way he’d left her, hot and bothered once again without release. But also something insane about how tempted he had been. The way he’d said it, lest they— not she, but him as well, were to be caught up again. It made her smile despite herself, though she tried very hard not to think on it as she drifted into sleep. 

 

~*~

 

Sunday had kept them apart until they’d left for the shop, unintentionally together but together nonetheless. He didn’t speak to her, except for when she asked him things, like whether or not he would make room for her in the medicine cabinet behind the enchanted mirror in the bathroom. He hadn’t out right refused her but he also hadn’t agreed to it either. She tried to keep her questions to a minimum, knowing that they were irksome and that for the moment she was living there under his good graces, if such a phrase could be applied to someone like Severus Snape. No one mentioned the blow job, and certainly not the moment afterward. The moment she had taken to referring to as ‘the almost moment.’

 

Hermione had grown used to solitude and quiet, three months without a proper home had left her wandering the streets in the hours of daylight, after she’d given up hope of ever finding work, and often slumming it on Percy’s couch well after he’d turned in for her nights. So Severus’s silence didn’t bother her nearly as much as she had thought it would, though she still craved answers; particularly to why he continued to refuse her if he found himself so easily swept up in what he kept calling ‘moments.’

 

It was his indifference and general annoyance at her presence that bristled her. If he was so incensed by having her in the house why insist she stay at all? The flimsy excuses of how she was only going to impose herself on him for future nights had made sense at first, but the more she thought about it the less it held together as an actual reason. But it wasn’t something she was certain she could bring up without risking being thrown out on her ear. Especially not after the way he’d lingered that extra moment in her room.

 

George had been particularly thorough that day and a busy bee at that. With Charlie’s return to The Burrow, he’d enlisted his older brother to mind the shop for the whole of Saturday so that he had been able to spend time tinkering and adjusting various things in several of the products that they’d already tested. He’d even set out the nipple creams for sale and had been overjoyed to tell them that by the close of business on Sunday they had all been sold.

 

They’d retested the D2— George having fixed and strengthened the sleeve, this time with the phallus in her anus— and he was satisfied with the product as a whole, even if Hermione preferred the unyielding plastic in her vagina so that Severus’ thick cock could penetrate her backside. She had not explained that part aloud when giving George her overall assessment. It had been a night of gracious fucking, the Lustipops coming in handy as he had them re-test each of the Hogwarts House condoms, all of which had had adjustments made to them, some more major than others. The Ribbed-Ravenclaw had received all of its ribs and had nearly rubbed Hermione raw from the intense friction it created within her, and the design on the Hufflepuff-Happy had been tweaked just slightly so that there was only one garish smiling face at the end of the condom— which did not break when they retested it. George had even tinkered with the light absorption charm in the Glow-in-the-Dark-Gryffindor version making it glow much brighter with an even shorter amount of light exposure. He had even added a slight green tint to the Slippery-Slytherin just for the hell of it.

 

When they’d returned home Sunday evening he’d arrived before her and was kind enough to hold open the door, though she knew better than to read too much into it. Once inside the house he departed from her company at his bedroom door, shutting it without so much as an uttered ‘goodnight.’ Hermione was getting used to his peculiar manner of cohabitating with her; the silences and occasional stares he would cast in her direction. Though she couldn’t interpret them she tried not to think of them lest her thoughts wander to places most unsavory. And by unsavory she meant erotic. The dream of him having his way with her; ravishing her, from the afternoon she’d fallen asleep on the glass door out at the patio still haunted her and while she had not repeated the dream she’d had similar both Saturday and Sunday night.

 

In the first dream she’d been in the shower when he’d torn into the bathroom and pinned her savagely to the wall, tangling his hands in her thick curls before fucking her wildly with the hot spray pouring down over them. In Sunday night’s dream she’d been lying in her want-to-be hammock out between the two trees in the yard when he’d sprung upon her and fucked her with reckless abandon until they’d rolled out of the hammock and onto the ground. Both dreams had disturbed her sleep and left her sopping wet; shivering with need and rubbing her legs together so forcefully that her muscles cramped under the strain. Hermione was certain she was losing her mind; such filthy dreams reminding her once again of Ginny’s bodice-ripping romances. Only there wasn’t some rogue Scotsman tearing at her corset on the edge of a jagged cliff overlooking the sea; it was Severus Snape, the emotionally stunted, brooding and generally foul-tempered ex-Potions Master. And current colleague. And he wasn’t at all tearing at anything other than her nerves and her patience, though she supposed when she considered it he probably felt the same way about her; at least the irritated part.

 

What she wouldn’t have given for him to have given into his baser urges; urges that she was slowly discovering he did indeed possess, however much he tried to ignore them, repress them and overall pretend they didn’t exist. Anal pleasure, and being restrained, the chill of the clouds and the way his body had responded after she’d rode his cock whilst his limbs had been spread and bound, and the way she’d insinuated her finger up into him to stimulate his prostate during her fellatio lesson; all of these little things had cracked his resolve just enough for her to notice that he was a man. A man with needs; sexual needs even if he did his best to keep from admitting as much.

 

Coming to the shop Monday evening brought on a series of surprises that nothing in the world could have prepared her for. She’d departed just after Severus but upon arriving she found the shop to be empty and when she’d made her way up to the workshop she was even more perplexed. Neither Severus nor George were anywhere to be found. It wasn’t until she’d started poking around in the boxes left on the table that she found the note, clearly scrawled in George’s sloppy hand.

 

We’ll be working up in my flat tonight, found an entire new line that might just blow you away! Can’t properly test it down here in the shop because of spatial constrictions, come up when you get here, the flat’s open. ~G

 

It left Hermione dumbfounded. But she took up her robe, changing into it before ascending the stairs to his flat. Once inside she was surprised to see two things. The first being that George appeared to have cleaned the place, or at the very least vanished the vast amounts of mess that she had seen there previously. And the second was that Severus was seated in one of the armchairs, wearing only his robe, looking rather sour. “That good?” she said, approaching him cautiously.

 

Severus rolled his eyes. “Quite.”

 

What on earth he was eluding to she hadn’t the faintest, but reckoned they’d know soon enough. She couldn’t fathom what they could possibly need to test that wouldn’t fit down in the workshop but would fit up in George’s flat. This left her mind whirring, so much so that she didn’t see George appear from the little hallway that led back to the two bedrooms and bathroom. “Oi, Hermione, glad you’re here!” he said with a grin. “You can both follow me,” he said and then disappeared back down the hall, ducking into the bathroom.

 

Hermione frowned, glancing nervously at Severus. He shook his head, which did little to quell her nerves, but she followed George, with Severus close behind her, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom. It looked nothing like it had when she’d been in his flat a few days prior. And Hermione couldn’t stop staring. The bathroom seemed impossibly large, a deep brass tub surrounded by square bricks against one wall, and a rounded pool like tub, very similar to the one in the Prefect’s Bathroom, just in the center of the floor. There was an elongated panel of glass across one wall, various showerheads attached at intervals along the tile, beneath some of which were oddly placed planks and stools. “George—” she began.

 

“Given the way magic and plumbing work it was just easier to modify what was already here rather than trying to create a whole series of waterworks down in the shop.” He seemed quite proud of his handiwork if the large face splitting grin was any indication. Hermione’s stomach was doing more than flipflops as she took in the room. All the while Severus remained quiet, which as far as she was concerned never boded well. “So, in case you couldn’t guess,” George’s giddy voice disrupted her thoughts. “I’ve found a line of sexual bath products tucked away in a cupboard in the workshop, and got so excited that I decided we just had to test them straight away!”

 

“Bath products?” her voice was weak, the color draining from her face.

 

“Oh yeah,” he nodded to the counter near the sink. A square box covered in blue bubbles and yellow rubber ducks took up the entire counter. “Loads of neat stuff, it was like hitting the jackpot at three a.m. when I found it.”

 

“Joy,” Severus muttered. It caused Hermione to snort, which she covered by coughing into the back of her hand. Not that her colleague ever seemed overly pleased with anything in the workshop, but it made her feel a bit less uneasy to know that he was less than thrilled with the prospect.

 

“I almost didn’t even know which one to have you try first,” George started, pulling his stool and little scroll desk into an unoccupied corner. He waved his wand over the ledger, presumably some sort of repellant coating to keep it from getting wet. “And it seems that most of these just have vague notes on what they’re meant to do…” Another thing that made Hermione’s nerves unsettled. The last tragic encounter she’d experienced had left her furry and she had no desire to repeat such an incident. “But it’s bound to be good fun, who doesn’t like shower sex?”

 

Grateful that his question was rhetorical, Hermione carefully approached the box as if its contents might leap out and bite her. Peering inside she was surprised to see mostly bottles and things that looked as if they actually belonged in a bathroom, though she wasn’t fooled. The various sponges, beads, and rubber ducks were no doubt toys of sexual perversion. Hoping that she was starting safe she plucked up a bottle that appeared to have hands popping out of the plastic all across its surface. “Wonder water?” she said reading the little handmade label.

 

The sound of George flipping through the pages of the ledger filled the room and Hermione snuck a glance at Severus. His face was impassive, as usual, his stature rigid, his arms crossed over his chest. She imagined that he was as thrilled with the prospect as she was though far less nervous. Her fingers felt heavy as she unscrewed the lid of the bottle and gently wafted it toward her nose, knowing better than to directly inhale a mystery product. But as far as she could tell it was odorless. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

 

“Says here,” George began, reading from the ledger. “Wonder Water will make your bath time experience simply wonderful. Pour into tub and let Wonder Water work its magic. Feel the wonders of the water in ways you’ve never felt before. Enjoy solo or with a partner, two or more.”

 

“That’s it?” she asked. George nodded his head. Hermione sighed. She glanced first to the large tub in the floor, which was filled with water already. Then her eyes meandered over to the large brass tub against the wall. It could easily hold both of them fully submerged. It looked more like a tub and less like a Jacuzzi style tub, which was what the pit in the floor resembled. With George’s nod of approval she held the bottle over the empty brass tub and tilted it onto its side, watching as water poured from the mouth of the bottle. The moment the water hit the edges of the brass tub it seemed to multiply, filling the volume much quicker than she could have imagined and after just a few seconds of pouring the tub was completely filled, nearly to the edge, with steaming hot water.

 

Turning the bottle upright she screwed the cap back in place, it still felt very full. She handed the bottle back to George and then looked at Severus. “Are we meant to get in together? Or do you think we should go one at a time?”

 

“One at a time would probably be best,” said George who was already frantically scribbling away in the ledger.

 

Hermione kept her gaze on Severus, not daring to glance back at the tub full of steaming enchanted water. She was about to speak when he beat her to it. “Ladies first, Miss Granger.” She wanted to retort with some quip about youth before beauty but realized that it was hardly applicable. Feeling ever like the guinea pig, she slipped out of her robe and stepped toward the tub. Lifting one leg up and into the water, she groaned upon feeling just how hot it was.

 

It wasn’t unbearable, the exact opposite in fact. It was pleasantly steaming, the sort of temperature you wanted to melt away all the troubles of the day. And she moaned again as she lifted her other leg and slowly lowered her body fully into the water. It enveloped her skin unlike any water she had ever felt; almost as if it were alive somehow, and could sense which areas of her needed more easing than the others. “Oh this is bliss…” she mumbled, her eyes falling closed with a lazy sigh. “It’s like being touched everywhere all at once…” Hermione shrieked, her arms and legs splashing about, her moment of pleasurable bliss disrupted as the sensation of a hundred hands swept over her body. “Bloody hell!” she cried.

 

George looked alarmed. “What is it?” he asked, leaping up from the stool.

 

The water appeared to be moving, pulsing and surging all around her as if it were moving of its own volition. Hermione’s face slackened after a moment, the look of alarm melting away into one of comforted pleasure. “They…it felt…” she mumbled and then arched her back. “Just surprised me is all…” she said, her tongue rolling languidly in her mouth. She could hear George once again scribbling in the ledger and opened one lazy eye to gaze at Severus. “You should join me…this feels amazing…” she whispered, her voice husky and low. “And it did say enjoy with a partner.”

 

Strong massaging sensations began to permeate her body, as if the water knew exactly how to penetrate her skin for maximum feeling. Her thighs fell apart, the wonder water rushing between them and she groaned. It felt like dozens of little slippery hands stroking her in all the right places. She was mewling and arching her hips, desperate to feel more of the strange water as it pleasured her. Gazing down at her torso she gasped at the sight of some invisible force tugging on her nipples, pinching them taut, each sensation making her moan as she writhed beneath the surface of the water. Her tongue loosened a good deal as the water continued to splash over her in waves, each moan growing louder, her body thrashing a bit harder as she did. “Oh…fuck me…” she groaned.

 

Hermione cried out, her body going rigid for a moment, her eyes wide. The penetrating sensation had happened so suddenly that it was almost painful, causing both George and Severus to rush to the side of the tub as she yelped feeling her body beginning to buck against the water. But after a moment she was gibbering nonsensically, her hips thrusting widely against this invisible force in the water and her head was thrown back, hair floating along the surface being tugged in every direction. “Ooh…ooh!” she cried, her thighs trembling. “It’s…I’m…ooh!” her whimpers were shrill and piercing as she felt the slippery force pumping in and out of her trembling core. She couldn’t find words to describe it. Being fucked by water was unlike anything she’d ever felt before but it was quickly bringing her to a heady peak. “Oh gods!” she cried, feeling her whole body collapse in ecstasy as her climax overtook her.

 

She shuddered violently and collapsed back into the water, her head falling under for a brief moment and when she surfaced she was a quaking, gasping for breath. Two strong arms were tugging her up, gripping her under her armpits and before she realized it Severus had hoisted her out of the tub and was draping a towel around her trembling figure. She was soaked from head to toe and unsteady on her feet, pitching forward against his frame. His arms drew around her and held her upright though he did not let her go. “Sorry,” she panted and then let her sopping wet head fall against his chest.

 

“Hermione did you just— did that—” George was flabbergasted and mostly speechless, blushing as he stared at her mouth agog. “Did the water just fuck you?”

 

For a moment it was all she could do to draw in breaths while leaning against Severus’ frame. His arms felt comforting around her back and she tried not to think about how he was technically hugging her. The orgasmic experience in the Wonder Water had been so intense and unbelievable that she could scarcely bring herself to her senses. The hand that was slowly moving up and down her back caused her to stir and lift her head, her eyes wide with confusion as she gazed up into Severus’ eyes. “Are you alright, Miss Granger?” he asked his hand still sweeping slowly up and down her back.

 

She didn’t trust her own voice enough to speak so she nodded her head and then pulled herself back from him. He had felt so comfortable, his strong chest beneath her head, the perfect body to cuddle against post orgasm. Hermione quickly chased that thought from her mind as she tried to steady her breathing. She pulled the towel around her, feeling chilled and then turned her head to George. “I don’t even know what to begin to say.”

 

George, who still looked a bit embarrassed, was turning the bottle around in his hands. “I’m almost hesitant to have you both try it after watching…well, that,” he said gesturing to the tub of water. It was completely still, guised as ordinary water. He moved over to it and with his wand drawn he blasted a spell in the general direction of the drain, looking satisfied as the Wonder Water swirled down out of the tub, leaving it once again empty. “But I suppose we should.” He handed the bottle to Severus. “You two together, I can imagine it would have the same effect on you…” he nodded at Severus’ crotch. “And well…watching one was enough,” he blushed.

 

Hermione was still convinced that George was harboring a secret crush on Severus Snape. If only he knew about the man’s sexuality the way she did. It brought the ghost of a smirk to her lips, thinking about how George might cream his trousers if he thought he could be buggered by Severus’s mighty cock. And then she pushed the image from her mind; knowing full well what it felt like to have that thick pulsing rod of velvety steel pulsing between her cheeks, filling each orifice to the hilt. She bit her lip and suppressed a groan. “You really think it’s safe for both of us?” she asked after swallowing back a moan at the prospect of feeling that intense water with him joining her in the tub.

 

“I don’t think you’re going to drown, Hermione,” George said and then pulled the stool a bit further back from the tub. “I’m just curious to see how it responds to the both of you…it does say for use with a partner,” he reminded her. She nodded and then looked at Severus, waiting for him to refute the idea.

 

But he simply moved over to the tub and unscrewed the bottle of Wonder Water, filling the tub as quickly as she had. He did not hesitate, though he did not move with any sense of urgency either, as he slipped out of his robe and handed it to George. Severus lifted one leg up over the brass lip of the tub and hissed when his foot made contact with the water. She watched as his frame went rigid for a moment before he drew up his other leg and stepped in. It took him a moment before he eased his body down into the brass basin, submerging himself up to his neck, the ends of his silky fine hair dancing across the water’s surface. “Come along, Miss Granger,” he said, his jaw clenched as he spoke. She could only imagine what sort of effect it was having on him as she approached the tub.

 

The way he was leaning back against the end of the tub made it easier for her to climb in. Hermione sank back as he did, their legs nestled against one another as their backs rested against opposite ends of the tub. Her toes curled absently against the joint of his thigh where his leg met his torso and she sighed; a contented sound as the water began to touch her as it had before. If he was getting any enjoyment from it she couldn’t tell, his face as passive and stony as ever. She was easily drifting off into a sated state, her toes wriggling and curling against him. His hand clutched her foot and she gazed at him, uncertain as to whether she had been tickling him or annoying him with the movement of her tootsies.

 

“Don’t you feel at all relaxed?” she asked. But if his tightly clenched jaw was any indication the answer to her question was clearly no. Which meant that it probably was in fact very relaxing for him except he was going to try and ignore it and remain stoic and unmoved. That prompted her to be mischievous. Hermione sat up and leaned forward until she was resting on her haunches, her knees sinking to the bottom of the tub on either side of his legs. He narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing as she moved forward and let her bum drag across his thighs. It was immediately apparent just how badly the water was affecting him, his erection standing rigid as she settled herself over his lap. “Do you think it’s safe to fuck?” she asked.

 

“If you want to give it a go, it’s probably a good idea,” said George. He was looking determinedly down into the ledger but kept sneaking furtive glances from his periphery in their general direction. Hermione smirked a bit and then slowly began to rock her hips back and forth against his lap, watching the way he clenched his jaw.

 

“You’re going to break your teeth if you keep clenching like that,” she whispered and then leaned her lips against his ear, feeling his whole body go stiff. “I wonder what it would feel like…” she trailed off, letting one hand rest on the surface of the water. “To be filled and have you be filled while you fill me…” Even though she whispered it, her words seemed to have an effect on the Wonder Water as it immediately began to slosh about. She braced both of her hands suddenly on his shoulders feeling invisible hands beneath the water lifting her hips up and then pushing her body down onto his cock. Hermione groaned feeling the way he filled her. Even fully astride him she was still submerged in the water up above her breasts and it felt like heaven.

 

It was like they were being moved by the water; his hips being drawn up to fuck her as hers were pushed down. And then she cried out, her voice cracking in ecstasy as she felt the water pushing apart her cheeks, pulsing at her anus. Hermione forced her eyes open, staring at Severus, whose eyes were now screwed tightly shut, but there was no mistaking the way his face was screwed up; pleasure written into every twisted wrinkle of his features. The way his body undulated beneath her gave her the distinct impression that the water was pushing its way into his ass as it was hers. And suddenly she was filled; with him in her quivering womanhood and the Wonder Water pumping in and out of her tightly clenching ass. The sensation was bliss and she began to moan.

 

There were hands suddenly tugging in her hair and she realized that he was clutching at her, pulling her head close to him, her lips brushing against his ear as he panted hot and heavy. There was no effort on her part or on his, her hips moving forcefully up and down his length, his hips bucking up into her, the water seeming to do all the work while simultaneously filling them. It wasn’t like it had been with the phallus and his cock; this was different, more surreal but twice as pleasurable. She couldn’t help herself as she began to kiss the side of his neck, her lips desperate for contact.

 

For all the world if he minded he didn’t protest, his fingers still raking through her hair as he panted against her neck, his lips hot against her skin. She was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to kiss him; to feel his tongue tangling against hers in her mouth. Hermione was moaning, hearing the soft grunts that he couldn’t contain as she brought her lips to his. His hands kept in her hair and he did not resist her when she kissed him; their tongues meeting with a fervent need. She could feel her body nearly tearing apart with the insane amount of pleasure. Tiny pulses were echoing against her clit and invisible fingers were tugging at her nipples; sensory overload as she rode him and the water fucked her ass. She could feel his chest rising and falling heavily against hers and then suddenly his hands were around her back, clutching her closely to him. Their lips broke apart and his head fell forward against her shoulder as he growled his release spilling hard and fast up into her.

 

Hermione was bucking wildly atop him, the little sensations tweaking at her clit moving that much faster as if they could tell she was close. A strong upward stroke of the water inside of her sent her careening over the edge, whimpering and shuddering as she came, collapsing forward against him, her chest heaving to catch her breath. The water did not relent when she came and she was certain they were both going to drown but in the background she could hear George firing a spell at the drain and within seconds they were quivering together in the empty tub basin.

 

She didn’t want to move, her body spent from a second intense climax. But the chill of the water’s absence was making her quite uncomfortable. It took her a moment to untangle herself from his limbs, and as she stood she realized he was standing with her, his arms still firmly wrapped around her back. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice sounded strained but he looked as if nothing had happened.

 

Nodding her head she waved her hand a few times before she was able to summon both of their robes, handing him his as she slipped into hers. “That’s some…it’s…”

 

“Orgasm in a bottle,” George said. “If you two— er…well I mean, it looked like it was as wonderful as it said it would be.”

 

Hermione nodded her head sheepishly, noting that Severus said nothing as he drew his robe around him. She knew that if she brought it up later he would simply state they’d been caught up in a moment, this time he could even blame the intensity of the product they’d been testing. She tried not to worry over it. “Do you mind if we take a minute, George? I’m not sure my body can take another orgasm like that.”

 

He blushed but shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah that’s fine, though I think I might switch to something a little less…intense, though I honestly had no idea that was going to do…well, that.” He said. “Do you want a chair or something?”

 

“I’m going to take a sit on your armchair out in the sitting room if you don’t mind,” she said and drew her robe tighter around her frame, walking past him.

 

“Yeah, take five or ten, whatever you need,” he said and then began to write in the ledger.

 

Hermione slipped out into the hallway and moved over to the armchair, all but collapsing into it with a great heaved sigh. She would have to do better than that if all the products in the new bath time box were designed to feel that good.


	10. Water Water Everywhere

She’d found herself back in the bathroom sooner than she’d cared for, but realized that there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. The Wonder Water had left her body more than spent; two intense orgasms in such a brief period of time made her overran her body with fatigue. But as a bright young witch with a keen sense of nosing about she quickly found a stash of chilled pepper upper potions in George’s icebox. She was pleased with her little discovery, more so that she’d thought to look, after all any good inventor was bound to have them tucked away and George was a genius. Hermione had never been a fan of the taste or the immediate way her fingers would jitter after immediately downing it, but after she calmed the shaking in her hand she returned to her colleague and her employer. They were odd terms to give to the unlikely pair; even though George was paying her she had difficulty seeing him as anything more than Ron’s older brother and a friend. Severus, on the other hand, it was impossible to imagine him in any way that wasn’t as her professor. And she tried not to give his sexual lessons too much thought because even though he’d been technically teaching her, it took their teacher-student relationship to a whole new level.  
Hermione tried not to think about the way they’d clung to one another, or the way she’d clung to him, the tender stroking of his hand up and down her back. Reading too much into any one gesture was bound to start a fight. So she focused instead on what George was saying as he carefully explained that he would have to tamper with the Wonder Water a bit more to ensure that it stopped when the fun was over. It made her nervous to think they would have to retest it, but for the moment she was wound up on pepper upper potion and pure sexual energy. Her hair was still wet, she hadn’t bothered with a drying charm; it reminded her of the way he’d pulled her up and out of the water, holding her close against his frame. She was losing the battle of keeping her mind away from those thoughts when George nodded to the box of products. “Go ahead, Hermione, pick us out something else then.”

Still a bit too terrified of the ordinary looking yellow rubber duck she picked up another bottle. “Bursting Bath Bubbles,” she read, the label printed in a bright and shiny blue. “Now edible.” This made her bite her lower lip as she walked the bottle over to George. Unscrewing the cap as she had with the wonder water she was careful letting the scent waft toward her. Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Smells like— like— almost like Red Hots.”

George thumbed through the ledger. “Red Hots?” 

“A muggle sweet if memory serves, one of Albus Dumbledore’s prized favorites because of the face that one made after unsuspectingly ingesting one.”

“They’re a bit like cinnamon, only not,” Hermione added and then frowned. She had never been a fan and did not like the prospect of bathing in liquid lollies. “What does it say it’s meant to do, George?”

He’d paused at a page in the ledger and was skimming over it. “Pour into bathtub for a little extra zing. You and your partner will indeed spice up bathtub with these bursting bath bubbles.” George flipped the page. “Says there’s also a choc version, Hermione will you—”

“Yes, yes,” she said and began to rifle through the box, finding an identical bottle of Bursting Bath Bubbles. The difference being that the bottle she currently held had a brown cap whereas the other bottle had had a red one. “I’ve got it. Now, which do we try first?” She wasn’t particularly keen to try either, but that had been her sentiments regarding nearly every product that they’d encountered thus far. Though she had been rather pleased with the Lip ‘N’ Tongue Liberator, even if it hadn’t felt as good as Severus’s tongue.

“Let’s go with the one you opened first.” He handed the bottle back to Hermione and nodded toward the empty brass tub. Taking the bottle she walked over and tilted it on its side. A lone reddish bubble escaped from the mouth of the bottle and floated to the floor of the basin, settling there for a moment before bursting and leaving a little red ring in its wake. She frowned. Perhaps the product was unfinished or a dud. And then she felt a rumbling, as if the brass basin was vibrating, clanking against the tiled floor of George’s bathroom.

“Oh goodness,” she said watching as the little red ring seemed to grow, spreading outward and up the walls of the tub. It looked as if a million bubbles had suddenly burst into existence from thin air, filling the tub well beyond the edges; mountains of reddish bubbles of all sizes piled nearly as tall as she stood. “Well this is…interesting,” she said and then turned her head to look at George. “Should we add water? Or— what do you think?”

George shrugged. “Hop in, you too, Severus. And we’ll just wait and see what happens.”

The logic which George applied to their current situation didn’t bode well with her but seeing that she had little choice in the matter otherwise, Hermione lifted one leg up and then paused, remembering that she still donned her robe. Shrugging out of it she climbed into the brass bathtub, hundreds of little red bubbles popping against her skin as she did. “Oh!” she cried, each pop feeling a bit like a tiny slap to her flesh. “They sting!” she cried as she shifted her body through the mounds of bubbles. “Like a little snap popping against your skin— oh!” Bubbles were crunching beneath her feet and all up and down her legs. Standing in the tub with the bubbles surrounding her she was covered nearly up to her breasts and was terrified to sink down. The bubbles continued to snap and sting all around her. As they were bursting she noticed two things; the first being that the bubbles were not dissipating, in fact they seemed to be multiplying. And the second was that the tub was slowly beginning to fill with a heated liquid, presumably some sort of fluid from the burst bubbles.

“George!” she cried, feeling the water heating her skin as it rose up to her shins. “This is— ooh! Ouch! This is really unpleasant— ugh! Ow!” she cried, feeling one particularly large bubble burst against the side of her breast. Between smelling strongly like Red Hot candies and being stung as if they were lolli wasps, Hermione was desperate to escape the bubbled mass that seemed to be growing as if it were intent on consuming her. “I’m getting out— oh!” she could feel her feet practically burning up as if the water was filled with little fire ants slowly gnawing away at her skin. Raising her leg to climb back over the tub only caused more of the bubbles to burst, snapping all over her skin and stinging her further.

She could not longer see either of them as the bubbles had risen up over her head and despite them continually popping they only continued to grow. Her chest was heaving and she could feel herself panicking as the water in the tub rose higher, now drenching her up to her knees. The stinging sensation was penetrating the skin on her legs and she was whimpering as she scrabbled to pull herself out of the tub and break through the bubbles. Two firm arms were suddenly around her midsection and she was being lifted up over the wall of the brass basin, her feet dragging over the tub lip.

Hermione was carried, her body still practically on fire, and she felt her arms wrap around the soft terrycloth of a robed figure before being pushed back under a spray of freezing cold but largely refreshing water. She sobbed as the stinging sensations subsided and her skin began to cool, no longer feeling as if she were going to erupt like the bubbles had been. Her head fell forward against the firm warmth of his chest and she trembled with her arms still clinging desperately to him.

“Can you stand on your own?” his voice was low.

She slowly lifted her head from his chest and realized that his frame was shivering slightly, no doubt from plunging himself under the frigid waters with her. Even though he still wore his robe she could see that he was uncomfortable. Sniffling, she nodded her head and released her arms from around him, tipping her head back into the icy spray. “I’m alright,” she said with a shaky breath. Within moments the ice water of the shower was no longer refreshing, and she quickly stepped out from the spray, taking the fresh warm towel that he offered her. His wand was drawn and he was muttering a drying charm, first over her and then over himself.

“If she’s alright, a little help please?” George’s voice was pinched, on the edge of exasperation as he blasted containment charm after containment charm at the enormous mass of cinnamon bubbles that had taken over half the bathroom. Every charm he blasted seemed to spur loose a few more of the bubbles, and they were multiplying faster than he could restrain them.

Severus tipped her chin up and gazed down into her eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“Now that I’m not being snapped to death and burned alive, yes I think so,” she said with a weak hesitant smile. He did not return the smile, only nodded before sweeping over to where George stood and began blasting charms at the mass of bubbles alongside the ginger-haired wizard. Hermione watched from the edge of the shower as they struggled with the bubbles and their exponential multiplicity but after a time they managed to contain them completely. “The icy water seemed to rid them from me, maybe we ought to shoot a spray of cold water at it?” she suggested, the towel tied firmly around her still trembling figure.

“It’s better than nothing,” said George who used his wand to transfigure the icy showerhead and draw it close to him like a fireman’s house. Within seconds of blasting the mass of bubbles they shriveled, popped and were no more. “Bloody hell,” he said with eyes wide in disbelief. “Hermione, I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

She nodded her head. After all it wasn’t his fault that the product had gone awry. She couldn’t be mad at him, she had signed up for the job and knew the risks with testing new products. “Yes, George, I’m fine. I mean, I don’t see any lasting welts or burns or anything.”

Severus turned to face her, walking toward her with his wand drawn. “Remove your towel,” he said with a stern voice. Though it wasn’t demeaning or even frightening, Hermione still found herself trembling at his command. She did as he said and pulled the towel away from her figure, watching nervously as he paced around her, looking up and down every inch of her body, his wand emitting a faint purple glow at the tip as he moved. She gasped when she felt his palm sweep down the length of her spine and over her right buttocks, curving around between her legs. His palm dragged up over her smooth mound, continuing its journey up her torso until he’d brushed her breasts. Severus drew his hand back and nodded at her. She quickly drew the towel back around her figure, biting her lower lip as she looked up at him. “Your skin appears to be unharmed, feels normal, doesn’t seem to have any lingering effects of that bubbled monstrosity.”

“I think I see what Fred was trying to do,” George said reading through the ledger. “But he must have made the formula too strong,” he frowned and then picked up the cinnamon bubble bottle. “With a fraction of the formula, the bubbles should pop slowly, leaving a warm liquid to bath in, the occasional bubble zinging against the skin like a lover’s snap. I think.” He paused. “Severus, do you think this formula could be tinkered a bit?” he asked.

Severus moved over to the ledger and mulled it over. “Perhaps,” he said simply and then crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you intend to have us try the other bottle? Before you do I wish to see the formulaic notes for it.”

Hermione shuddered. She was not keen to have a repeat experience, especially not if the bubbles were chocolate. She couldn’t fathom what sort of havoc could occur. With a tremble in her legs she walked over to where they stood and leaned over George’s shoulder. “I don’t know if—”

“The formula seems quite different for this set, Miss Granger.” Severus’ voice was not terribly reassuring to her ear, but what he said next seemed to strike her dumb. “If you wish I’ll try it first.”

She could feel her heart thudding in her chest and while she longed to attribute it to the frightening experience she’d just undergone, a part of her couldn’t deny that his chivalrous offer wasn’t getting to her. Nodding her head she stepped back and stared at the tub. “Alright.” It was all she could manage to say. Hermione watched as he took the bottle and walked over to the tub, uncapping it as she had, and tilting it onto its side.

The bottle of chocolate scented bubbles poured very differently; a thunderous rush of tiny dark brown bubbles racing out and down into the basin. Hermione watched in awe as the bubbles expanded, quickly filling the tub, each one uniformed in size, slightly larger than a golf ball, translucent and sweetly scented. When the tub was full to the lip the bubbles stacked themselves in drifts making it look like chocolate bubble snow before capping off about a foot above the tub’s edge.

Severus poked a slender finger at one of the bubbles, quirking his lips to the side when it did not pop. Plucking it up between his fingers he squeezed it, practically flattening it between his index and thumb before it burst in a gooey plop of chocolate against his hand. Drawing his palm up beneath his nose he inhaled with caution, nodding his head. “It smells like chocolate,” he announced and then with a hesitant swipe of his tongue, he tasted the syrupy mess. “When it acts like a duck…”

“What?” George titled his head to the side, clearly confused by Severus’ analogy.

Hermione couldn’t help but smirk a bit. Despite it all she was amused by his sarcastic wit. “He’s saying it’s chocolate, safe to eat, George.” She said. And then she forced her lips shut, feeling a giggle about to burst forth from her mouth. She’d inadvertently become a translator; she’d never realized she could so fluently speak Snape. She turned her eyes back to Severus, watching as he shed his robe and tried to step up into the tub. The bubbles did not part for him nor snap on contact, and it was only when he had both feet planted in the tub did they start to burst under the weight of his body.

Little splashes of chocolate erupted here and there, filling the tub with a thick sticky syrup. Hermione rushed forward a little too late as she saw him lose his footing, but his hands were thankfully quicker and he caught himself, hovering with great strain to keep from having fallen flat on his ass. As he sank down Hermione bit her lower lip; he was literally easing himself into a bath of chocolate. “Should— should I join him?”

“Yeah, so far it seems ok. Hop in with him and play around a bit, see if you can have a go, it’ll be useless if it’s too thick or sticky for sex.”

George’s words made her cheeks flush fully scarlet. She would never get used to the casual order to go and fuck Severus Snape. Or for him to fuck her. While her body loved the idea, her mind was still stuck on him being an authority figure. A reserved man whom she respected that just happened to have the loveliest cock that she had ever encountered. As she approached the tub she noted that he was seated in the basin, covered up to his ribs in the chocolate while several large mounds of bubbles still remained. Hermione took her time climbing up into tub, her feet sinking easily down into the sticky syrup. She’d never taken a bath in pure chocolate before. It was almost like tepid hot fudge, caught somewhere between ice cream syrup and straight up melted chocolate. An idea struck her as she settled down into the tub, her legs straddled on either side of his. “If this were heated…” she trailed off, looking at George.

“You think it would make things easier?” George called without looking at them.

Hermione bit her lower lip. “I don’t know about easier, but what girl wouldn’t want a luxurious soak in heated chocolate? You’d have to be cautious of how hot of course, but I mean…” she blushed. “There’s something rather tempting about being in a tub full of heated thick chocolate with your lover.” She couldn’t bring herself to look Severus in the eye as she said this. While they weren’t technically lovers, she supposed it was sort of applicable. What she wouldn’t give to fill his lovely tub back at Spinner’s End with heated chocolate and feel his hands spreading it all over her body. The chocolate level in the tub was rising, nearly up to his neck, now gently coating her breasts and she bit back a tiny moan. “I mean this is fine for now, but just imagine, George…the possibilities.”

“I’ll make a note of it, Hermione. Go ahead and see if you two can’t have a go then.”

She was settled over his lap but hadn’t properly sank down to feel if he was hard enough for sex. She knew that the male body had limits and operated in a different fashion from her own body. Her hands were slippery, now easily coated with the syrupy chocolate as the tub was now completely full of it, though a good bit of bubbles still rested on the surface. “Are you…” she trailed off, leaning forward not wanting to have to say it aloud. It was embarrassing enough to think about it, regardless of how much it turned her on. And while she supposed he wasn’t so old as to be easily put out, she couldn’t help but wonder if it took him longer to restimulate naturally because of his age. It called into question a whole slew of factors, like the self control he so rigorously held over himself when receiving pleasure and what things stimulated him quicker than others.

The chocolate lapped gently against the back of her shoulders and she wished she’d had the good sense to pin up her hair, knowing that it was now being dipped in the syrup. She could feel his legs against hers and dared to lower her body just a bit, receiving her answer to the question he’d chose to ignore. Hermione pressed one hand down into the chocolate, feeling the substance envelope her like a sticky dream and she closed her mouth, the moan echoing behind her closed lips. It was satiny and rich, slippery and sticky all at once. Her hand curled around the rigid length of his cock, the chocolate acting like a lubricant as she stoked him. He bit back a hiss and she closed her eyes. “I think this is going to feel very different,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Hermione tried to lift her hips to guide herself over his shaft but slipped forward, her torso falling against his. Chocolate splashed around them and it was now dripping fully into her hair as well as his. She couldn’t help herself as she licked her lips; he looked ravishing covered in the rich brown velvet, a stark contrast to his pale skin. She could feel herself blushing from the thought, worried that he might be able to read her mind.

The syrupy liquid tasted like thick rich silky chocolate, as if someone had taken her favorite bar and liquidated it; so much thicker than drinking cocoa but yet smooth and satiny like being in a pool of satin sheets that were also clinging to her skin. Both hands were now covered as she pressed on his shoulders trying to pull herself upright but he was as slippery and as sticky as she was and she only succeeded in sliding further against him.

“It is very slippery, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, remaining completely still beneath her.

“You could help,” she huffed, trying to no avail to grip his shoulders properly. Again she licked her lips, catching the taste of it on her tongue more fully. “Oh, George!” she cried. “It tastes…ooh…it tastes wonderful,” she murmured and drew her fingers up to her mouth, slowly licking each one clean.

“It did say edible,” George said, his quill scratching away in the ledger.

“You should try it…” her voice was sultry and she blushed. She hadn’t meant to sound so wanton, but there was something about tasting the chocolate that made her eager to have him taste it too. Hermione ground her hips downward, sending little rippling waves of chocolate all around them, little dabs and dribbles splashing up onto his neck and into his hair. “Here…” she purred, holding her index finger against his lips. She pouted when he did not pull her finger into his mouth. Pressing the pad of her chocolate covered finger against the center of his mouth she traced his lower lip and then up around his cupid’s bow until his lips were covered with chocolate. “You look delectable.” Again she blushed, bowing her head a bit, realizing she sounded like a strumpet in heat.

“Mr. Weasley I believe your chocolate is aphrodisiacally enhanced,” he said simply, remaining completely still beneath her.

Hermione was wriggling her hips in his lap, trying to slide her body upward so that she could sink down onto his shaft; longing to be filled by him while feeling the deliciously sinful sultry satin of the chocolate that enveloped her. “Just taste it…” her purr was low and desperate as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his jaw, smearing a bit of chocolate on his skin. “Ooh, Merlin,” she murmured. “It tastes even better against your skin.” Hearing what she’d said as if someone else had said it she quickly pulled her head back which resulted in her sliding backward and almost off his legs completely, only his knees bent up, catching her. She leaned back against the tops of his thighs, using his legs like the back of a chair as she slid down into his lap, one hand beneath the satiny chocolate now guiding his cock to her entrance.

She could feel his body going stiff as she began to ease her weight onto him; the way the chocolate glided around making everything about the encounter especially slick only caused her to moan. Before she closed her own eyes, she noted that his had closed; the telltale sign that he was struggling to maintain his composure. In the back of her mind she realized the chocolate bath bubbles turned liquid must have been spiked with some sort of lusty augmentation because she had never felt more strongly drawn to him than she did in that moment. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same or if perhaps he knew what was happening to her and thus had refused to taste the chocolate.

But her logical mind was quickly losing purchase against her lust driven body as she sank all the way down onto his length, unable and unwilling to suppress the moan that she uttered. Fully astride his lap with his cock buried to the hilt up inside of her, Hermione opened her eyes, her lids only rising halfway. His brow was furrowed; his eyelids clenched tightly shut and a grin spread across her lips. “Touch me…” she whispered, both hands reaching forward under the chocolate to pull his arms up to her breasts. It seemed that he could not resist his own urges and her at the same time for she found very little resistance as she placed his chocolate coated palms against her breasts.

Being submerged in a tub of liquid chocolate made gliding up and down on his shaft both easier and harder at the same time. It took more effort to properly propel her body upright but she sank down that much faster and slid down his length. The delicious squelching sound of her body plunging down into the chocolate filled her ears and she could have sworn he tensed his fingers, gripping her breasts even if it was only for a moment. Hermione no longer cared that he was resting, and was most likely going to burst a blood vessel from straining so hard against his natural urges. In that moment all she could focus on was being coated in the thick luxurious chocolate with his thick luxurious cock sliding in and out of her tight core.

Surges of heat filled her body as she let her head fall back, her chocolate soaked hair clinging to the back of her neck and falling heavily down over his legs. Her eyes fell closed as she gave into the sensations of sheer ecstasy; riding up and down in his lap with the slick syrup between her back and his legs easing the friction between their skin. She could feel his hands, clenching and unclenching against her breasts and she whimpered, little bubbles popping around her, splashing her with more bits of the liquid heaven. Her reverie was burst by the sound of George’s voice and she let her head fall sideways long enough to glance in his general direction. He was gazing intently down into the ledger, writing as fast as ever, and had asked something about friction.

She heard Severus’ voice respond, mostly because it was suddenly right by her ear; he’d shifted forward their torsos now touching in places. “It glides just fine.” His voice was terse and terribly pinched. But he had felt the need to move, or had shifted inadvertently; either way there was more of him to touch and she took that as an invitation, tugging her chocolate soaked fingers through his hair. He growled but did not pull away from her when she did. Hermione couldn’t say for sure that it was all to blame on the aphrodisiac of the chocolate. She had been having dreams about him that had been driving her wild; and to suddenly find herself so overwhelmed with pleasure made it difficult to restrain those baser urges.

It was nearly impossible to suppress the urge to thrust her lips forward and kiss him but somehow she managed. His hands were still against her breasts and she could feel the heat spiraling inside of her as she slid up and down his length, sliding down harder with every downward slip of her hips; her moans and groans punctuating each move. The telltale tightening of her walls around his slippery cock signaled the edge of her release and she was teetering on the precipice of orgasm, the chocolate only melting against her heated skin as she sank down hard and fast on his shaft.

A deep guttural groan resounded from Severus and it seemed to be her undoing; her walls clenching in sudden spastic waves against his pulsating rod of velvety chocolate-covered flesh. Her head fell forward against his shoulder; chocolate splashing everywhere as she quaked and quivered in his lap. His body was trembling beneath hers and she felt him, if only a bit, release as well. “My god…” she panted, her voice scratchy. Hermione could not bring herself to lift her head from his body, the intense sticky and heated sensations overwhelming and consuming her entire body.

Severus ran his fingers through her hair and it caused her to gasp, her head drawing upward to meet his gaze as she did. That familiar yet unrecognizable swirl of emotions flitted through his eyes for the briefest of seconds before he shut his lids and let out a deep, audible sigh. Again George’s voice interrupted whatever moment it was they’d been having.

“Good then?” he chortled.

Hermione, despite being covered fully in chocolate, knew that her cheeks were red with embarrassment. “It seems to be quite luxurious, George,” she muttered, finding her voice. “I daresay that you’ll have many a desperate witch flocking to the shop once word gets out of what this is really like.”

If Severus agreed or disagreed he kept his opinion to himself. She was slightly put out when he began to shift beneath her, sliding his knees down into the chocolate, nearly causing her to fall deeper into the tub. She watched as he hoisted himself up to a standing position, careful to balance himself fully before reaching both hands forward in her direction. She was stunned to say the least but sheepishly put her sticky chocolate-coated hands in his and allowed him to pull her upright. Hermione wobbled a bit on her feet but his firm hand on her shoulder kept her from falling. She was grateful in that moment that most of her face was smeared with chocolate, hopefully hiding her blushing cheeks.

“You two can shower off if you like, actually, yeah, let’s do it that way rather than using wands, make sure it comes off as easily as it goes on.” George gestured to the elongated shower wall. “I’ll pop down to the workshop and see if I can’t find a few things to modify those cinnamon bubbles,” and without another word he’d left the room.

Severus stepped out of the tub first, his slow, deliberate movements ensuring that he remained upright despite the slippery substance in which he was covered. Hermione had begun to lift her leg up over the ledge when he placed his hand on her shoulder, steadying her so that she could easily climb out of the tub. Again she blushed, and nodded toward the shower. George had modified the standard shower in his flat’s bathroom to a long run of showers along the far wall; several heads mounted at evenly spaced intervals, some of which had benches and chairs beneath them. Moving cautiously over to the first showerhead that did not have a chair or bench beneath it, she fiddled with the faucet. She shrieked as a blast of pink steam came gushing from the showerhead. Jumping back, her heart was racing. “Oh dear,” she said, gazing at each of the various shaped showerheads. “How are we—”

“Come here, Miss Granger,” he said, standing at the far opposite end of the shower run. She realized it was the tap he had shoved her under after the burning bubble incident. Hermione took carefully placed steps toward him, leaving chocolate footprints in her wake until she was standing just beside his equally coated body. Her eyes raked over him, a temptation too good to resist, noting the way his bony figure appeared even more defined dipped in the luxurious syrup. When her eyes met his, she bowed her head, realizing that he’d been staring at her as she visually outlined his body. “If you’re finished having quite the look…” he nodded at the showerhead.

The lower petal of her lip was mashed between her teeth and she slowly shook her head. “Not if it’s going to be cold.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “It’s an ordinary shower, Miss Granger. The cold water was running because you were literally burning up,” he explained.

“Oh,” she muttered and then frowned again.

“Go on then,” he said, his hand nudging the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward under the showerhead.

Did he mean for her to go first? Hermione was about to turn and offer him the shower instead but his arm reached over her shoulder, tugging the faucet head to the left. A spray of heated, well-pressurized water spilled down onto her head and she quickly closed her eyes. She didn’t dare move, any further forward and she would have been pressed against the wall, and she had the distinct impression if she backed up she’d back right into his body. That notion made her body heat all over again; the immediate throbbing between her legs increasing tenfold when she thought about the fact that they were both naked while showering together. It wasn’t as if anything would become of it; she had to focus her mind. After all he was going to insist they be professional. And it wasn’t as if he had given her any reason to think he would ever be anything but, regardless of whether they were in the workshop or not.

His hands were gripping her shoulders before she could think on it or even make a sound. Hermione found herself spun around, facing him with the heated spray now rushing down her back. “Close your eyes, Miss Granger,” he said. His voice was calm, as if it were the most natural thing to be covered in chocolate post coitus and sharing a hot shower. Severus slid his hands up either side of her slender neck, tilting her head back into the spray and she closed her eyes as he did. The feeling of water pelting down against her face was more pleasant than she had expected. She suspected it was enhanced by his fingers tangling through her hair. Only they weren’t tangling, they were gently stroking her locks; washing her locks free of the chocolate.

Her lips parted as if to speak but she quickly pressed them together, thinking better of it. There was no sense in asking him what he was doing; he was only likely to reply with a sarcastic answer. She kept her eyes closed and her mouth shut, just savoring the sensation of his fingers in her hair. Hermione was certain that unless George had some sort of hair product that needed testing she was unlikely to ever feel such a treat again.

“It could stand shampoo but will do for now,” he said, his hands slowly tracing back down the column of her neck, resting momentarily on her shoulders before shifting her to the side, trading places with her beneath the spray. He was a good two heads taller than her and easily tipped his own head back into the deluge of water, letting the little bit of chocolate that had splashed his locks rinse out. Hermione blinked back droplets of water from her eyelashes and then gazed at his body, noting that although the water was helping he was still sticky and tinted brown in places.

“Soap, I think,” she said, realizing that she as well was still quite covered in the chocolate. It took her a few tries before she was able to forcibly summon a bar of soap from some hidden location within George’s bathroom. Clutching the bar in her hand she held it out to him, expecting that he would take it and scrub himself free of any remaining syrup. Her body stiffened when his fingers lingered against hers, idly stroking the bar for a moment. When he took the soap from her hand she nearly breathed a sigh of relief except she quickly found herself once again under the spray of the shower.

“Turn around,” he said without preamble. He did not wait for her to comply before turning her face into the spray and pushing her head forward so that her hair hung over her shoulders, clinging and curing around the tops of her breasts. Water was now streaming directly down her spine and despite the way her legs were beginning to tremble it felt good. And then she felt his hands; his rough slightly calloused, large hands, circling and shifting around her back. Sweeping up and down her sides and over the top of her shoulders, spreading soapy lather over her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat when he began to rub her breasts, soap bubbles now covering her front and backside. She whimpered when his hands slid down her torso, leaving her nipples stiffened and unattended.

Hermione couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think; what on earth was he trying to do to her? Forcing her mind to focus she kept her eyes open, staring at the drab tiles of the shower wall. His hands had migrated, now circling around her legs and between her thighs; so familiar a touch as if she were not a woman and he were not a man. It made her shudder when she felt his fingers glide over her womanhood, though he did not linger. “Ooh,” she moaned quietly, unable to help herself. But if he took notice he kept silent, not slowing or stopping his ministrations until her body was completely covered in the soapy lather. Again his hands turned her in the spray, this time slowly spinning her around and around until she was rinsed free of all the suds.

Her wide eyes gazed up at him, disbelieving; and so terribly aroused that she thought she might melt into a puddle at his feet. She caught his eyes and blushed, noting how intently he stared at her. “Yes?” she whispered, her voice pinching off into a squeak.

“Are you going to step out and let me finish? You’re quite thoroughly cleaned.”

The pit of her stomach clenched tight like a rock sinking to the bottom of a very shallow pond. Hermione dumbly nodded her head; struck silent by his request. It hadn’t been callous or even cold, simply a question and a statement. Stepping out from beneath the spray she suddenly felt very vulnerable and snatched for a towel as quickly as she could find one. She kept her eyes away from the shower as she dried off and donned her robe; not truly understanding why he had taken such efforts to assist her with washing. It had felt so brilliant and yet he’d been quite clinical about the process. Though his touches had felt so gentle and intimate; it was driving her mad.

It felt likes ages passed before Severus finished in the shower; emerging chocolate free and wrapped from his waist down in a towel. He dressed in his robe and then turned to the bathroom door, staring out through it. They waited in silence for George to return. When he did Hermione felt the tension in the room ease slightly, but it didn’t do much for the coven of butterflies that had taken flight in her stomach. Or the slick heat that was still burning between her thighs. She tried not to think about either as she walked over to the sink counter and peered once more into the box of products.

“What did you have in mind next?” she asked quietly.

“Something that will give Severus a break, if you need one,” George said, turning his eyes to the dark-haired wizard. “Though I brought a few Lustipops up just in case,” he patted the back pocket of his jeans. “Just pick something out and we’ll see if it’s doable.” Severus gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, prompting George to nod at Hermione.

She had been picking up various products from within the box, still too perturbed by the rubber duck to look at it properly, when her hand glided over a small box. “How about this one?” she asked, holding the box in her hand. It was white, virtually non-descript save for the precisely printed red letters across the front. “It says— Lover’s Soap.”

George began flipping through the ledger, looking for notes on the product. Hermione could only imagine how Severus was feeling. He had mentioned at least once that it was nothing more than a job, and although she supposed their line of work technically made them lovers, she couldn’t believe that he would be pleased thinking of them as such. Lovers implied that they were intimate with one another on a level that was more than just physical; though she certainly experienced hints of that; the way he’d assisted her in the shower moments ago coming immediately to mind.

“Lover’s soap. Make getting your intimate bits squeaky clean a sensual experience for you and your lover” said George. “Then there’s a note off to the side that says milk, dove, glove.”

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Look in the box and see if there’s a glove. Or a dove.” He shrugged.

Hermione looked back into the box, shuffling bottles and toys around; pushing tubes to one side until she’d thoroughly searched the box. “No glove or birds in here, George.” She hadn’t actually expected to find a dove, perhaps a toy one like the creepy rubber duck, but in so far as she could see there wasn’t anything even remotely close. “So now what?”

George shrugged his shoulders. “Let me clear out the brass tub—” he paused a moment and then shook his head. “No, I think this one is probably better served with a test in the shower.” He handed the box back to Hermione and then took his seat once more on the stool. The little cardboard flaps were easily plied open and she had no trouble in slipping the bar of soap from its box. At first it appeared to be an ordinary bar of soap; save for its peculiar shape. White and smelling faintly like a fresh bar of soap ought to, she held it in her hand and stared at it. Shaped a bit like a disfigured hand she shrugged and moved over toward the shower.

“Will you get the water going?”

Severus nodded and then shrugged out of his robe. Back to the shower with him, and this time she imagined it would be just as intimate. The thought caused her to shiver, which she masked by shifting her weight from foot to foot as if debating over the soap and its intentions. Out of habit she began to chew on her lower lip but thinking of the way he’d touched her lips the night before, when demonstrating to her the finer points of how to properly deliver fellatio, she stopped. He was practically under her skin, even her bad habits had her body betraying her. She could hear the water running behind her. Turning with the bar of soap in hand she slipped, albeit awkwardly, out of her robe and stepped into the small space they had shared but moments ago.

There was truly no reason for them to be pressed together; the shower run was wide enough, though she supposed that standing side by side to test a soap product that would clearly involve rubbing one another seemed a little silly. She could once again feel the butterflies in her stomach; turning and flipping and driving her mad. Being pressed so close to him brought back that familiar intimacy he had displayed before, seldom as the occasions had been. The night when he’d eased her into her first experience with anal sex, and the way he’d massaged her back before guiding her through her first encounter with fellatio; those tender moments gave his proximity a familiarity, making it feel intimate. It was intimacy; the thing that he seemed to shy away from a great deal, but she craved it deeply. And it wasn’t until that moment that she realized she craved it all the more because it was him.

Her mind didn’t have time to think on the ridiculous conclusion she’d just drawn because his hands were bracing her shoulders and his eyes were searching hers. “If you’re too worn down from the last product—”

“No, no I’m fine,” she insisted. It was peculiar, albeit pleasant, that he seemed so concerned; though there had been another dreadfully unpleasant experiment gone wrong to contend with. She was rather enjoying the change of mood, compared to his usual sarcasms and acerbic tongue it was a field day. “I just, thinking is all…”

“Try not to over think, Miss Granger, it leads you to the worst possible conclusions,” he said and then let his hands slide down from her shoulders, falling to rest at his sides. It hadn’t taken long for the bubble of his pleasant behavior to burst, but it was almost comforting in a way to have him being more like himself. She knew he was right; the more she thought on it the more she would try and read into it, and supplant notions that were merely her mind’s creation.

“Right,” she muttered and then curled her fingers around the bar of soap. Hermione stepped forward, noting how he stepped back just slightly as she did. They were both under the spray more fully and she pressed the bar of soap against the front of his shoulder. As the soap made contact with his skin she noted the little heart shaped bubbles that formed in the lather, lingering against his arm as she swept her way down the length of his limb. “That’s cute,” she said, receiving a grunt in return for her comment. She forced herself not to sigh. It wouldn’t do to show annoyance at his responses; half the time he gave none and she supposed she was meant to be grateful that he’d responded at all. “Little heart shaped bubbles so far,” she called to George, wondering if he could hear them properly over the spray of the shower.

“Is your hand tingling?” Severus asked, drawing her attention back to him.

“No, wait, a little,” she said, frowning. Hermione pulled her hand back from his arm and gazed in surprise at her palm. The bar of soap had vanished. Only it hadn’t vanished so much as it had absorbed into her skin, the filmy whiteness of it visible just beneath the surface of her palm; little heart imprints now lining her fingers. “Oh my,” she said and then pressed her hand flat against his chest. “Does it tingle when I do that?”

“A little,” he said. Severus stood watching her, and it made her insides quiver. They were only pressed together in a heated shower, after all, and naturally her body was in a mood most treacherous. With slow sweeping circles she began to rub her hand all over his chest, leaving a trail of white foamy heart-shaped bubbles in her wake. He drew in a short sharp breath when she passed over one of his nipples. Her eyes were wide, gazing at him expectantly. “Feels like a pulse,” he said. “The soap must be engineered to respond to erogenous zones.”

“Alright…” she trailed off. Hermione knew where the erogenous zones on her body were and imagined they would be mostly the same on his; though a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if they were slightly different on the male anatomy. She felt foolish asking such a question and already she could feel the sting of blush in her cheek. “Should I—”

“Continue whatever it was you were planning to do, Miss Granger.” He said. His voice was flat, though not nearly as annoyed as she’d expected. He could be difficult at the best of times. She should have been pleased with his permission to do as she had intended; and that should have sparked sexually mischievous thoughts in her mind only she found herself still ruminating on erogenous zones and their differences in the male and female body.

“I want to try something,” she announced and then pulled her hand back from his torso. She didn’t wait to see if he would nod his head or even watch her as she did. “Here,” she said and turned around, stepping back until her backside was pressed flush against his front. Hermione leaned her head back against the dip of his collarbone, her wet curls now clinging to his skin. “Give me your hand,” she said, waiting with baited breath. She expected him to push her away or at the very least question her. But when he moved his arm against her waist and offered up his hand she grinned, thankful he couldn’t see her face. “Lace your fingers over mine,” she said. She held out the hand that had been infused with the lover’s soap.

His fingers were long and elegant and although he’d touched her a great deal before this was the first time that she’d ever felt his fingers twined with hers. They were bony but not skeletal; feeling just right pressed overtop her hand. Hermione repressed the urge to moan; she was content. Their bodies were aligned in a fashion most intimate, his hand now clutching hers like a proper lover; it was bliss. Her mind was moving in slow motion as she savored the sensation of how intimately their bodies were joined; and he wasn’t even pressed inside of her.

“Miss Granger?” his voice stirred her from that moment of delicious bliss.

“Yes, sorry, I was thinking again,” she confessed. But he did not pull his hand away. “I’m going to move my hand, I’m hoping that the soap has a similar effect, just want to see if having your hand to add additional pressure will increase the effect or perhaps even transfer some of the soap to you.” She thought she sounded very scientific, even though her voice was trembling slightly.

“Very well.” They were words of consent. He wasn’t berating her for being sentimental or trying to make the task something more than it was; so far she was off to a good start. Hermione pressed her palm against the center of her chest, pressing down onto her flesh just a bit and he echoed the pressure, making her feel as if she could melt upward into her own palm. Little tingly sensations spread over her skin and already she could feel her body heating; a furnace burning strong between her legs as her mind roved over the possibilities.

“Okay…” she exhaled and then slowly began to move her hand over her right breast; fluid sweeping circles that built a fluffy white lather of bubbly hearts. When her palm and his fingertips grazed her nipple she inhaled sharply; it was as he had described. A pulse of pleasure that jolted into her body through her skin and down to her core. Hermione’s head lulled back a bit more, the back of her crown now resting against the top of his shoulder. She closed her eyes. Circle after circle, she massaged her breast until it was completely covered in the foamy white hearts, slowly dragging her hand with his atop it to her left breast. His fingers were slightly longer than hers and the fleshy pads of his fingertips touched her skin as she began to trace ovals and figure-eights around the soft pliable tissue of her bosom. Another series of pulses swam through her body; and she could feel her legs starting to tremble.

Hermione leaned back a bit more, the soft but firm feeling of his body behind her letting her body relax as she did. He wasn’t overly muscular; strong enough to lift her soaking wet from a bathtub that much he’d proven. And he wasn’t particularly round; a small rounding of his middle that seemed perfectly natural to her, slender legs but sturdy on his feet; his body was a wonderland that she desperately wanted to explore. But in that moment she was content to be leaning back against it; with the heated spray of the shower sliding down over her skin, intensifying the sensations of being pressed against him all the more. She guided his hand along, sweeping back and forth over her breasts, circling the outer edge of her areola sin such a way that his fingertips brushed her stiffening nipples with every stroke.

The faintest hint of cream titillated her nostrils; like a pleasant non-descript baked good warmed and ready and doused in ice cream. Her eyelids fluttered as she continued to ease her hand over her body, up and down the space between her breasts, ever shift of her arm letting the tips of his fingers touch lower and lower until he was teasing the top of her bare mound. She knew it was her own hand with his situated atop it and for the most part her own touch but there was something wildly erotic about feeling the way his hand extended over hers; knowing that he was touching her.

“I wonder if it’s mild enough for…” she trailed off, her voice a breathy whisper. She hadn’t realized just how much her breasts had been heaving; the touch of her hand laced with his and the soap leaving her insides burning hot. Already she could feel the heat between her thighs, igniting the pilot light in her core. She was melting just thinking about it; the prospect of being touched by him, however minimally it was, made her legs tremble again.

Hermione had expected him to pull his hand away; to reprimand her or at the very least to make a verbal protest of some sort. But he remained silent, his fingers still laced over hers and she all but squealed in delight, harshly swallowing the sound that threatened to escape her lips. Guiding their hands down over her mound she spread her legs apart, water sluicing down over them as she began to rub slow, firm circles over her mound, curing her fingers just enough to feel the tips of his fingers brushing her lips. It was an intimate caress; her palm cupping her mound, his hand mimicking hers. She was losing herself in the repetitive motion; her hips arching back against him, grinding against his body.

The pressure his fingers exerted down on hers was gradually building until she felt that he was guiding her hand. He was now stroking their twined fingers through her slick folds, rubbing his fingertips against the delicate nerve bundle of her womanhood. Little white heart bubbles covered her sex and she shuddered feeling a pulse of pure pleasure shock her center. Her body was begging for more as she rocked back against him; the feeling of his flesh against hers with the steamy water streaming down over them making her pant that much harder. Soap had never felt so good. Hermione was grinding in a firm rhythm, her head lulled completely back against him, eyes now closed. But his fingers continued to move; squeezing her sex, rubbing her clit, the soap foaming around their joined hands and she could feel herself edging closer and closer to release.

The pad of his middle finger was rubbing circles around her clit; she was no longer guiding the movement of their hands. A single shift of his hand brought their twined fingers between her folds, the heel of his palm now grinding into her clit. She gasped and then groaned as his middle finger dipped into the liquid of her core; curling against her inner walls. Hermione came suddenly; mewling breathlessly as her body shuddered her release. Her quivering figure collapsed back against his body but his other arm was drawn around her midsection before she could fall.

“It would seem it is mild enough,” he said. His voice caused her eyes to shoot open. With a slight tilt of her head she found herself gazing up into his piercing stare. They were still pressed together, her still leaning quite heavily on him, their hands still joined; his other arm still around her waist. The loss of contact was dreadful. While he did not push her away he stepped back, releasing her in every way as he pressed his back against the tiles of the shower wall. Hermione was bereft; beside herself with how very exposed she suddenly felt.

She crossed one arm over her breasts, turning around to face him. Without meaning to bring their bodies close once more she stepped forward into the spray, shivering as the little white heart bubbles washed away. It was impossible not to notice the way his cock hung semi erect between his thighs. And with water streaming down his torso it made the pronounced lightning bolt of pubic hair that much more prominent. She was tempted to ask George for more of the depilatory just to keep him from looking so absurd; though there was hardly anything absurd about the way his cock seemed to slowly grow under her gaze. “Should I…er, should we…” she placed her still soapy hand against his lower abdomen. A bunch of heart bubbles blossomed against his skin and hung around the creases where his thighs joined his torso.

Severus held her gaze. “If you must.” 

He reminded her of the plumbing in her childhood home; running hot and cold, and completely unpredictable. One moment he was sensually caressing her body, giving into the pleasures that she had so desperately sought from him and the next he was standoffish and aloof, clinical and reserved. She couldn’t make sense of him, though she figured it was best if she stopped trying. Hermione nodded her head and began to move her hand down, gently massaging the thatch of curls above his cock. His erection twitched, filling and firming until it was upright against his torso and she was massaging over the velvety steel rod.

His hiss made her pause and for a moment she worried that the soap bubbles were irritating him or stinging him. But when she glanced up at his features her lips curled into a smile. He had hissed because it had jolted pleasure through him as it had through her when she’d been touched. Only he was trying to resist it. Hermione let her soapy hand slide down the length of his shaft without curling around it until she was cupping his balls. Resuming her circularly squeezing massages, she grinned when his hips bucked forward; a physical reaction that even he wasn’t strong enough to withhold. Leaning forward she brought her lips to his chest, just resting her mouth against his skin as her fingers continued to curl and flex around his balls; heart-shaped soap bubbles rising all around his midsection.

She could feel him his frame shuddering; the desperate need to hold it all in slowly coming undone. Hermione slipped her fingers slowly back, rubbing the sudsy hearts between his cheeks, her lips parting to place feather light kisses against his pectoral muscles as she heard him groan. It was a choked sound as if he was forcing himself to be silent, but she’d still heard it and that made all the difference in the world. And then there was the hand; his fingers threading through her hair and she sighed against his skin. But he was pulling her head up from his chest, his other hand gripping her soapy wrist like a vice, pulling it back from between his legs. His eyes looked stormy; a dark swirl of something wicked and lusty, some carnal beast that he was clearly struggling to contain.

“That will be enough of that,” he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel.

She should have been terrified but instead his coarse sound sent a shiver through her body and her hips rolled forward. He had quite the effect on her regardless of the fact that she had been sated a few moments ago. He had turned from her, letting the spray of the showerhead wash down over his torso before turning the faucet off. Hermione shook free the remaining bubbly hearts from her hand and within moments the little imprints beneath her skin faded and her palm stopped tingling.

“So it’s mild then?” George asked, looking up when he heard the water stop. “No trouble with…” he gestured at them.

“No, it was fine, for both of us,” she said with a weak smile on her lips. “Perfectly mild, didn’t irritate, in fact it stimulates a good bit.”

“The heart-shaped bubbles are strictly novel,” Severus added, drying himself off with a towel before donning his robe.

Hermione could still see the way his cock strained, despite his best efforts to hide it beneath his robe. At least she could volunteer them to test an intercourse product next if one remained. She knew that he would have his release that way whether he wanted it or not. While she loathed him for his ridiculous self control she knew what being worked up without release was like and didn’t wish it on anyone, not even him. “What else have you got, George?” she asked.

“Well, if you two didn’t—”

“We did not.” Severus said.

“But he’s ready to go,” Hermione said moving to stand beside him. Severus said nothing, nor did he deign to look in her direction. She wondered if she had overstepped by announcing it but after a moment decided that she didn’t care. She was ready to move on and play again. The orgasm she’d experience in the shower with her hand and his joined together had been blissful but not nearly as strong as the ones she had experienced with other sorts of stimulation.

“Oh, alright,” said George. “Well, um, the Shower of Love might be worth a go,” he said with a sheepish grin crossing his face.

“The shower of love?” she repeated, the word alone sending a thrilling zap to her core.

“Another shower, Mr. Weasley?” Severus said. She could hear the slight irritation in his voice.

“Oh, it’s not just any shower, Severus, it’s— well, come back over to the shower run,” he said moving over to the wall of showerheads. George pointed to a shower in the middle of the row of showerheads; beneath this one rested an odd looking table. Hermione stepped up beside it and frowned. Upon closer inspection it wasn’t a table at all but rather a makeshift mattress like the one they had transfigured in the workshop. Only it looked a bit like a waterbed mattress and was no larger than the twin bed in Severus’ bedroom at Spinner’s End. Already she didn’t like the look of it. The bed, if she could call it that, made her stomach turn upside down, but looking up at the showerhead made it that much worse. The enormous ovoid metal head was polished a shiny metallic red and appeared to have an assortment of tiny holes of all shapes and sizes scattered across its surface.

“So you want us to have sex. On a bed. In the shower.” She found herself saying without even realizing that she’d stopped thinking and started speaking.

“Essentially, yes.” Said George. “Fred had the showerhead all worked out, but I imagine there’s only so much a person can enjoy its various functions will standing up,” he shrugged his shoulders and gave a little grin. “I’ve always fancied the notion of being cuddled up in bed with your lover and rather than having to give up that comfort to go have a rousing bout of steamy shower sex…well, that the shower should come to you. I think with this— though the bed isn’t so much a bed as a makeshift bed…” he trailed off. “You get the idea. I can worry about the logistical marketing of it later. First you two need to work through the cycle.”

“Cycle?” she asked.

“I’ve programmed it to rotate through the various functions of the showerhead. Fred’s original design included a remote of sorts but that seemed cumbersome. So for now, when you press a certain button a pre-programmed cycle of effects works itself for a pre-determined amount of time.”

Hermione stole a glance at Severus. He was looking stoic as ever, his face passive, his arms crossed over his chest. If he were annoyed or displeased he wasn’t giving any indication. She didn’t find herself particularly annoyed or displeased though a bit nervous. Rolling around in a bed and having sex was definitely an activity reserved for lovers and while she knew they were only testing things she didn’t need another reason for her mind and body to betray her logical senses.

Severus had already stepped over to the makeshift bed and was sitting on its edge; appearing to be of the persuasion that the sooner they started the sooner it would be over. Hermione slipped out of her robe, handing it to George before joining him; their thighs touching as she sat beside him. She tried not to think about how similar it was to the bed she’d laid in the night he’d held her close and guided his cock into her ass for the first time. But the image and the sensations crept into her mind unbidden and she could feel a low burn starting to build in her core. The mattress was wobbly, not quite like a waterbed but not firm like a regular mattress either. She wondered if this had been George’s best attempt at making intercourse in the shower easier or if the transfiguration had simply gone wrong.

“Lie back,” said Severus. Hermione found herself obeying without even thinking; her body hopping to please him. With her legs curled up she eased her body down into the shifting mattress, laying on her side in a ball, waiting to see if he would push her onto her back or spoon behind her as he had done that night in his room. It was almost too much to hope for as she watched him shed his robe and slide down onto the bed beside her, leaning up awkwardly over her body without really touching her.

“Right, well, I’m going to start the cycle and you two can just sort of go at it however you find it to be most comfortable. Or have a bit of a roll around, see if you can manage a few different positions,” George suggested and then reached up over them to tweak the large ovoid showerhead. Immediately a gush of hot steamy water came pelting down on them. It startled her and she blinked her eyes several times before turning fully onto her back, gazing upward at Severus.

“Well, this should prove interesting,” she whispered, his body blocking some of the heated spray. The pressure that was raining down over their skin was intense; almost like little bullets made of bursting hot water. Her hair was quickly soaking through, not that she’d had a chance to properly dry the curly mass after their last encounter. It felt slightly awkward; lying back on something comfy with water pouring down over her, though the heat of the water seemed to keep her body intrigued, her hips subtly rocking upward as he knelt between her thighs and lined his body over hers. She could feel the swollen head of his cock at her entrance and she shivered, despite the heat of the water and despite the close proximity of their bodies.

Severus leaned down; his body touching hers, their chests pressing together as he rested his forearms on either side of her head; pinning her in a fashion to the makeshift mattress beneath. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to focus. The overwhelming desire to reach her hands up and tangle her fingers into his hair was almost too much to resist; the urge to press her lips to his and kiss him fully niggling at her in the worst way possible. She gasped aloud, eyes open and gazing up at him when he pushed himself fully into her without preamble or announcement.

Hermione was certain she’d never be used to the way he so casually insinuated himself into her throbbing core; the way his cock stretched and filled her, his balls pressed firmly against the globes of her ass. That delicious moment where he held himself buried to the hilt deep inside of her was over all too quickly as she felt him pulling out of her, his hips working hard to drive a steady but firm rhythm. The way he held himself up; the weight of his body resting on his forearms, lined their bodies together perfectly, skin touching skin all the way up their torsos. His hips were churning; every stroke sending a punctuated jolt of pleasure up into her core as the thatch of shaped curls that still covered his pubic mound brushed idly against her clit.

Her body was shielded from most of the spray but she could feel the water pooling around her as she lie on the makeshift mattress; keeping her skin heated as she undulated beneath him. She imagined that this was what it was like to have sex on the beach in a shallow of water, only without the sand or the delicious scent of the nearby ocean. His wet locks fell forward over his face in stringy stands, dripping onto her cheeks the water from above as with every thrust. Her hands reached up and wrapped around his back; drawing him even further down onto her body; the delicious sensation of his weight upon hers making her gasp. She was surprised when he did not resist being pressed so close to her body, but instead continued pumping his shaft into her core.

“Turn onto your side,” he panted, his voice clearly pinched.

For a moment Hermione hadn’t registered that he was actually giving her a command. And then she felt a rush of cool air across her chest; their bodies parting leaving her open and exposed. He’d pulled himself up from her, his cock withdrawn from her heat and she whimpered. Severus placed his hand on her hip and gripped her, pulling over onto her side as he skillfully slid over her figure and settled behind her. “Draw your leg up,” he said, without waiting for her to respond. He tugged her thigh until she’d draped her leg up and over his as she had done when they’d been together in his bed.

Hermione bit her lower lip, her body tensing as she felt his erection sliding along between her legs. “Relax,” his voice was still strained as he hissed against the back of her ear. “I wouldn’t do that here.” He reassured her. To say she was completely relieved would have been a lie. For while she feared the sting of un-lubricated anal sex, the thought of how well he filled her was thrilling. The memories of what it had been like that night in his bed made her muscles clench as she felt the head of his cock pressing at her slick folds once more.

She had never had sex in a spooning position, save for the way he’d spooned her to take her anal virginity. The feel of his body pressed firmly against hers made her moan, though she tried to do so quietly. His shaft pressed into her, his hips now rotating a slow but deep rhythm and she choked back a groan of feral pleasure. The way the head of his cock brushed against her sensitive g-spot with every thrust made her writhe against him, her bum wriggling back as if trying to draw him forward into her further.

The pelting drops of heated water seemed to shift then; going from blasting pressurized spray to a cooler and more moderate flow; almost like being under a tepid waterfall. She was covered suddenly in the milder water, groaning as she arched back against him. It was a peculiar blend of sensations; the water pouring down over her skin giving her goosepimples as it was quite a bit chillier than what she’d felt before, all while pleasure soared through her with every slam of his cock inside her quivering core.

Hermione’s walls were beginning to quake; already she had found herself nearing the edge of delicious release when she felt him still inside of her. Wrenching her head back to gaze up the length of his jaw she whimpered in protest when one hand draped over ribs and began to massage her breasts. “Easy…” he growled against her ear.

“Why did you stop?” she whined, trying to grind her hips back, desperate for him to start moving inside of her again.

“You’ve practically pushed me back off the edge, you’re grinding so forcefully,” he said, fingers still tweaking and pinching at her nipples.

If what he said was true she couldn’t actualize it let alone apologize for it as a particularly rough pinch against her pebbled flesh sent a jolt of searing pleasure straight to her clit. Hermione began to quake, one hand darting down between her thighs to rub furiously at the swollen bud. She came hard, jerking and shaking against him, feeling him tighten the grip of his arm around her ribs. The chilled water seemed that much colder as she began to unwind from her peak and now her body was shivering against him.

“Move,” he said, pushing her over onto her stomach. With her frame still reeling from her orgasm it did not take much to fall forward onto her chest. Her limbs were wobbly but she felt his hands gripping her ass and pulling her rear up into the air. “Bend your knees a bit, Miss Granger,” his voice was once again pinched and she could feel his cock sliding through her folds, teasing her clit with the tip of his head. And again without warning he pushed into her; her lips parting to cry; a raw sound escaping her throat.

What had been chilly on her back was once more searing; little drops of hot water, only thicker than water and melting into her skin. “Fuck…” she hissed, craning her neck up to the showerhead. It looked like red oil or perhaps some sort of lava dripping down at random slow intervals onto her flesh. Each droplet made her hiss but it set her body aflame; her core clenching against him every time a new spot settled onto her flesh. She wondered if he could feel it too; the way the heated water seemed to spread over her skin and then melt into her. “Oh…god…” she moaned, rolling her hips back to meet him as he continued to pump into her; a bit more steady of a rhythm than the one he’d used when they were on their sides.

Hermione realized as her body was rising up off the soaked makeshift mattress that she was woefully inexperienced when it came to the various ways in which she could have sex. They’d been at it on the wet bed under the shower and already he’d had her in three different positions, two of which were new to her. His cock seemed relentless as he pumped into her backside, this new angle not allowing him in quite as deep but making up for it in the force he was able to pound her with. She trembled, feeling her body rock forward with each thrust; little flickers of pleasure dancing up and down her spine.

A shrill squeak tore from her lips as an icy cold dot fell onto the back of her neck. Hermione’s head lifted up to gaze at the showerhead and for the life of her she swore it was snowing. “Fuck,” she hissed feeling tiny little flakes settling all over her skin. The heat beneath her from the previous fallen water and the natural warmth of his body behind her made the little flakes bare such a sharp contrast that each one made her twitch.

“Come here,” his voice was a low growl, his hips slipping back from hers as her body convulsed. Several of the large chilly flakes landing all over her spine. Hermione was being rolled over onto her back before she could properly respond to him. And then she was being pulled up into his lap. He had crossed his legs and for a moment she warbled against him, but his hands situated against her hips and pulled her down onto his shaft and she groaned; head falling forward against his neck as she did. “Wrap your legs around my back,” he grunted, his voice even more terse than before. Hermione knew he had to be approaching some sort of breaking point. She complied; one of her heels digging into the soft flesh of his ass as he began to thrust upward into her. Her other leg rested atop her calf, crossed behind him and she threw her arms around his shoulders to keep from pitching them both backward.

Severus had drawn his arms around her slight frame; holding her close as he continued to rock up into her. It was the most intimate position she had yet to experience with him; even more so than when they’d been pressed into the spooning position. She clung to him as if releasing him would topple them both over; but she could not longer feel as much of the strange snowy downfall from the showerhead, pulling so close to him. And the new angle at which he penetrated her was deep; hitting a spot far inside her core that made her whimper with every punctuating thrust. “Oh, oh, oh,” she whimpered and then forced her lips together, burying her nose against his neck. Their bodies were soaked; heated and slipping against one another from the downpour of the shower which was now melting against their skin.

She was burning up inside; every thrust stoking the internal flame of her core and she was certain she was going to come with his name on her lips. Hermione forced her lips shut, feeling her walls clenching against his cock; and she heard him groan, slowing his pace just a bit. She whimpered in protest, digging the heel of her foot further into the supple flesh off his ass, as if begging him for more. A gush of heated water came rushing down over them both and in the shock of the temperature and consistency change she pitched forward; knocking Severus back into the bed. He growled, his cock slipping from her, landing pinched between their bodies.

“I’m sorry…” she panted, chest heaving up and down as she laid splayed across his body; the deluge of hot water pouring down over them. It was almost like being caught under a very large heated hose, nothing at all like a shower yet not entirely unpleasant. She had been so close to finding her release and if his grunts and groans had been any indication so had he. But now he rested awkwardly beneath her; their bodies touching in various places, but he was no longer inside of her. The water stopped and Hermione suddenly felt very cold. “Is that it then?” she called to George, quickly scrambling up from Severus’ body, trying to find warmth.

“Five different things, for one cycle, was it long enough? I can turn it back on if you like,” George offered.

“That will not be necessary, Mr. Weasley.” Severus was now standing, wandlessly and wordlessly drying his body before sliding back into his robe, having moved out from the shower run. “It was more than sufficient to test whatever it was you were hoping to learn from it.”

“Was it easier?” he asked, his eyes once again in the ledger, hand scrawling notes on its pages.

“By comparison to simply fucking in a shower without the assistance of a surface?” Severus asked plainly. “I do not know that I would say easier, but it does provide a myriad of options in regards to positions. With a bed like surface there are limitless positions you can tangle into, and the overall effect of the ever-changing water from above wasn’t intolerable.”

Hermione had found her robe, but had neglected to dry her hair and her curls were now dripping wet down the back of it, soaking the material through. She sighed and leaned her head over to the side of her body, gathering her hair in her hands and wringing it out. Trickles of water splattered to the floor and she swore her locks still smelled faintly of chocolate.

“Hermione, how was the shifting water?” George asked.

“The one that felt like snow was really startling, especially coming after that— was it oil? Or whatever it was, hot and melting into your skin turned suddenly cold and snowy I think my body felt like it was short circuiting.” She confessed with a blush. George frantically scribbled down her responses, and gestured to the box on the sink. “More?” she said incredulously, surprised at how she’d said it.

“If you’re too tired we can call it a night,” he said and lifted his head from the ledger.

“Miss Granger?” Severus asked her, arms crossed over his chest.

She was still a bit put off at not having finished from their wildly intimate bouts of sex in the shower, but she supposed if they tested more products then she would be given a second chance to finish. She just wasn’t sure how much more her aching body could take. Nodding her head she moved over to the box. “I’m fine, maybe just a bit of a break first, George? I mean if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, sure, why don’t you two go have a sit out in the living room. I’ll pop down to the workshop, I’ve got a few things I can tinker with. Unless you’re hungry? Are either of you hungry?”

Food was the last thing on her mind. She shook her head. She was not surprised when Severus also declined the offer of sustenance; she’d rarely seen the man eat. Wishing she had slippers, Hermione shuffled toward the door and out into the little hallway. She planted herself into one of the armchairs and sighed, drawing her arms around her for warmth, still feeling a bit chilled.

The blast of flames in the hearth in front of her startled her and she leaped to her feet. Severus was carefully tucking his wand into the pocket of the terrycloth robe, thinking nothing of having lit the fire in the grate. “Thank you,” she muttered, feeling foolish for being startled. She did feel instantly warmer and scooted the chair closer to the flames.

He grunted something that could have been construed as a return of gratitude had he been someone other than Severus Snape. She watched from the corner of her eye as he shifted the other armchair close to the flame and then set his frame down into its cushion. For a long while they sat in silence, watching George disappear down into the workshop.

But the silence nagged at Hermione and before long she found herself desperate for conversation. “How are you holding up?” she asked after a while longer, debating on what sort of question might actual garner a response from him. Clearly the one she had asked was not the one as he remained silent, staring into the flames. “You know I’d never been in any of those positions before,” she said.

“It wouldn’t take an expert to know that, Miss Granger.”

She should have been insulted, but at least he was talking. “I imagine there are others then?” she bit her lower lip, wondering if this would earn her a nasty lashing of his acerbic tongue.

Severus scoffed. “A great many more,” he said with ease. “Most are just variations on a few basic designs, but the list is essentially endless, new adjustments and what have you.” She hung on his every word, rather fascinated at the way he spoke so casually on something that to her and a great many others was so taboo.

“Will you teach me?” she was blurting out the question before she could help herself. The slender black eyebrow above his right eye was quirked high upon his forehead at her question and she immediately blushed and bowed her head. “Sorry,” she muttered. What on earth had she been thinking? There was a long silence that hung in the room after that and she wasn’t sure she should speak again, though she silently thanks the gods that had kept him from mocking her. The last thing she needed was Severus Snape teasing her about how she’d asked for lessons to further exploit her sexual inexperience. It was bad enough that she had gone to him for her first experience with oral sex, both giving and receiving. And for anal sex; though as it turned out she found that she enjoyed all three things immensely, anal penetration the most so far.

The pops and crackles of the fireplace had warmed her skin and when she thought enough time had passed she lifted her head and slowly looked at him. “Do you think—”

“Miss Granger,” he said with a sigh and then shook his head. “You talk too much.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed her lips with a frown. In that instance she supposed he might be right, if she hadn’t been chattering away she might not have burst out with such a ridiculous question. But she wasn’t given any longer to dwell on the matter as George reappeared from the workshop.

“All rested up? That was about a half,” he said and moved toward the bathroom. “I know there’s at least one more major thing I remember reading about that I’d like to get tested tonight, plus whatever else you’re both up to, I’m not in the least bit tired.” Hermione rose from the armchair and followed George back to the bathroom with Severus close behind her. “I read about them…if I can find them, and if they work, I think you’ll find them fascinating.” He said and began flipping through the ledger. “Hermione, look for a box that looks like it’s wrapped in chain link,” he said. “Or just chains in general.”

Not at all liking the sound of what she was looking for, Hermione began to rummage around in the box. Sitting just beneath the frightful rubber duck was a small white box that was indeed painted to look as if it had been wrapped in linked chains. She hesitated as she pulled it out of the larger box, half tempted to tell George that she could find no such thing inside. But with a sigh she held up the box. “Here, I think,” she said and handed it to him.

“Right,” he said with his telltale lopsided grin in place. “If these work…” he said lifting the little lid. “Oh well they look alright,” he said and from within drew out four round bracelets. They didn’t look much like chains; rather bubbles that were strung together, only made of some sort of wobbly plastic.

“What are they supposed to do?” she asked.

“Well, you put one on each arm, as high up as you can slide it, like a circlet from Greece, there are four so two for you and two for Severus,” he handed her the rings, and nodded at Severus. “And then if they work— they’ll keep you weighted underwater so that you can have sex underwater like a mermaid.”

Hermione was once again floored by the words that had come out of his mouth. She supposed she might get a shot at another new position if nothing else, but the notion of having sex submerged underwater that was definitely something she was having difficulty wrapping her head around. At least the box hadn’t contained some sort of product that would restrain her in the water, as she had initially expected. She didn’t question the mermaid reference bit, not really wanting to think about a mermaid’s ability or lack thereof to have sexual intercourse.

She turned to Severus and handed him two of the bubbles bands, slowly slipping her own up over either arm. They felt strange against her skin and once they were both in place she felt oddly out of sorts with herself. “I feel strange,” she said.

“I imagine that’s the pressure charm,” George said. “You’ll feel more normal once you get in,” he gestured to the large tub that was in the center of the floor. It was only a few feet deep like the one from the Prefect’s Bathroom at Hogwarts, but it would be enough for total submersion.

“Breathing?” she asked as she cautiously stepped toward the tub, sliding out of her robe.

“Oh, um, hadn’t thought of that, just a bubblehead charm I guess?” he looked to Severus. “Unless you have another idea, Severus?”

Severus shook his head. “I suppose a bubblehead charm will do.”

While Hermione had no particular experience with the bubblehead charm she found that she trusted Severus when he mentioned it. Much like sex, she knew the basics and assumed it would be enough. Stepping over to the edge of the tub that was situated in the ground she waited for Severus to join. A few muttered words and she felt a rush of oxygen around her head. She had expected some sort of helmet to appear, but it appeared the bubble of the aptly named charm was not visible. “Is it in place?” she asked nervously.

Severus nodded. “A modified version of the enchantment, makes seeing under the water easier,” he explained.

She nodded her head in understanding and then sat down on the floor with her legs dangling over the water. The moment her foot touched the water’s surface she was inexplicably drawn into it, as if the water had a pull over her body, wanting to keep her under its surface. Hermione struggled for but a moment before she was pulled into the water completely and found herself fully submerged. At first she panicked, scrabbling upward toward the water’s surface, but then she remembered the bubblehead charm and found that she was breathing without issue. Severus had slipped into the water beside her and was now floating just beneath the surface, his dark locks looking like ominous seaweed as they drifted around his head.

Hermione knew that talking in a bubblehead charm was impossible so she just nodded at him, shifting her body so that she was laying horizontally on her side beneath the water. The bands around her arm kept her balanced, like a floating weight halfway between the bottom of the tub and the top of the water’s surface. It was unlike anything she had ever felt, and she wondered for a moment how they would manage to have sex without anything against which to ground their bodies. If Severus had wondered the same thing she never would have known for his face looked impassive as always.

His body drifted toward hers and both hands gripped her arms at the bend in her elbow. She could feel him tugging her downward, and their bodies sank together to the bottom of the tub. It reminded her more of a small swimming pool; much like the one at Hogwarts had. Hermione had never spent much time in the Prefect’s Bathroom, finding there was always duty to be done or studying to be had. His bony fingers pressed into her flesh, not unpleasant in the way that they gripped her, but she noted that he seemed to hold onto her with more of a force than he had used before. Blinking her eyes, with her own hair floating all around her head, she looked at his face and waited for him to guide her. He was floating, the bands around his arms keeping him close to the bottom of the tub while not letting him situate down against it.

Hermione let her eyes roam over his figure; the way his slender frame seemed even thinner in the water, no black robes or even the terrycloth robe to help pad his figure. She had never thought of the man as frail; he was certainly strong enough to pull her about during the experiments, but his frame suggested the image of a man who could stand to eat more. Mentally she made a note to try and cook in his presence, with the hope that he would eat. But those thoughts drifted out of her mind as her eyes met the thatch of curls that still vaguely resembled a lightning bolt, covering the top of his pubic mound. It made her blush thinking back to that very first day of testing, the way he had so casually touched her and bowed his head to taste her nipple, stroking his fingers through what had once been her very natural pubic curls.

She needed to ask George about how long that serum was meant to leave her softly smooth. While she was getting used to it, she wasn’t sure that she was overly fond of being as smooth as she was when she was a little girl, it just didn’t feel natural. Again her thoughts were interrupted as his hand cupped her cheek and turned her head up to look at him. Hermione felt weak under his intense gaze; those delicious dark eyes boring into her, though his face was not stern nor reprimanding. She bit her lower lip only to have the fingers that were against her cheek pluck the plump petal from her teeth. She blushed again. It was a diehard old habit that he seemed to disprove of, as he pinched her lip slightly between the pads of his fingers.

Hermione brought both hands forward and clutched his shoulders, bringing their bodies quite close together, her nipples which had stiffened into taut little buds, pressing into his chest. Severus’s hands reached forward and brushed the mass of her hair back away from her face and she tensed slightly at his touch. Not because it felt unpleasant but because it thrilled her. His hands were rough, not uncomfortable, but hardly smooth and dainty like her own. She imagined that years of teaching Potions, and doing Merlin only knew what else, had made them that way, and every time they graced her skin she shivered. He looked displeased then, his eyes tracing her features as the curls he had brushed away from her face came drifting back around her head, flowing forward.

It made her giggle, though she tried to check her smile; knowing that while all her life her hair had been a point of annoyance for her, it was mildly amusing to now see it be an annoyance to him. Her body was floating just a bit higher than his, moving toward the surface and she gripped his shoulders that much harder to keep from drifting away from him. She moved one hand onto his chest, leaning her head forward, her cheek brushing against his. The firm arm that wrapped around her back made her gasp, a string of bubbles escaping her mouth and surrounding them.

Being weightless and under the water, free flowing and floating was something she found she rather enjoyed, all the more because it was forcing him to be quite physically close to her, making him touch her a great deal more than she had anticipated. His hands had slithered down her back and were now cupping her ass and she groaned, though no sound left her lips, only more bubbles. He was pulling her forward and her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, her heels locking over one another against the small of his back. Her arms clutched around his neck and her fingers threaded into the floating tendrils of his hair. His eyes met hers and glared for a moment but she did not pull her hands away.

If he was unsettled by her touch he made no move to say so, still holding her firmly aloft against him as he moved one hand between their bodies, stroking his cock. It amazed her how quickly he had become erect, though she realized that he had not finished in their previous encounter. And then she felt the head of his cock pressing at her entrance, a peculiar sensation as he pushed his way up into her. It wasn’t painful but the natural lubrication that her body provided seemed depleted by the water. Once he began to thrust his hips, however, all thoughts whisked out of her head and she groaned, bubbles swirling around their head. He felt tight inside of her, his cock pulsing upward at a strange angle as his knees sank down and rested on the bottom of the tub.

Hermione tightened her grip in his hair, her head falling forward as he began to buck up into her; their bodies drifting upward. It made his rhythm uneven; awkward brutal thrusts jerking her body this way and that. She clung to him that much tighter, digging her heels into his back to try and gain purchase. She cried out, a storm of bubbles raining upward to the surface of the water as he pulled his hands against her ass and rammed her forward on his cock. He was penetrating her more deeply than she’d ever felt, her body feeling as if she were on fire despite being submerged in water.

Her head curled forward and she was panting against his neck, bubbles floating everywhere as he continued to piston his shaft into her core. Their bodies continued to drift, each thrust of his hips sending her further away from him, with his hands gripping her tightly to bring him back. Hair was floating everywhere; his black locks tangling with her chestnut frizz, looking wild in the water, though her eyes hardly had a chance to notice. She couldn’t help herself as she began to nuzzle his neck, needing to feel more, needing to cling to him. Her lips trailed against his flesh, feeling the heat of his pulse as she roved her mouth upward and then across his jaw.

One hand remained firmly gripping her ass while the other reached up to push the mass of her hair back. Her own fingers were still tangled in his locks near the base of his neck, her nails digging up and down into his scalp. And then she pressed her lips against his; feeling a rush of air between them as she kissed him. Their bodies were rolling together, his hips bucking and banging against hers as she slipped her tongue forward into his mouth. A shock of pleasure tore through her body as he yanked her hair back, tugging a bit harder than was probably necessary; but Hermione moaned into his mouth all the same. The taste of his tongue against hers made her tremble and her walls clenched against his shaft as he thrust into her again and again, his erratic rhythm growing faster.

He hadn’t pulled away from the kiss, his hands now both gripping the flesh of her ass so tightly she knew she’d have bruises but she didn’t care. Hermione felt dizzy; deliciously lightheaded as pulse after pulse of pleasure surged through her; their lips still joined, her tongue teasing his in circles. The water around them seemed to feed the energy of his churning hips, his balls pressing up against her underside as he began hard fast strokes, still hitting deep within her.

Her body began to tremble; quaking almost violently beneath the water as she clung to him. She ripped her lips back from him, eyes rolling back into her head as she felt herself tip over the edge and erupt into an orgasm that tore through her. Wild hair floated all around her and she shook hard against him, nails digging into the back of his neck, her heels drumming against the base of his spine as she came. Severus’s body was jerking slightly as his own release came over him; his hands gripping her so hard that his knuckles were white.

She collapsed against him, which sent them both sinking hard to the bottom of the tub, her lungs stinging with the unusual sensation of being under the water. Hermione closed her eyes, her head buried in the crook of his neck and then suddenly she was surging upward. She hadn’t noticed that he’d ripped the bubble bands from around her arms, but she broke the surface of the water with a gasp, thrashing about for a moment before his strong arms were around her waist, thrusting her upward onto the edge of the tub. Her ass was stinging, her cunt was throbbing and her whole body was soaked, her legs still trembling. Hermione laid back, trying to catch her breath, gazing up at the ceiling of George’s bathroom, listening to the splash of water as Severus hoisted himself out of the tub. She was panting, eyes falling closed, body still twitching lightly when he pulled her upright, turning her head left and right, before holding her by the chin and gazing hard into her eyes.

“That was foolish, Miss Granger,” he admonished her.

Hermione’s eyes opened wide to gaze at him. “What are you—”

“Kissing in a bubblehead charm reduces the oxygen much more quickly,” he said with a pinch in his voice.

She hadn’t even thought about the bubblehead charm. In the moment she had simply wanted to kiss him. And hadn’t he kissed her back? Or at the very least not pushed her away? It burned her up to hear him chastising her, but she was determined not to lose her temper with him. Drawing in several calming breaths she turned her head away from him and muttered, “Caught up in a moment, I suppose.”

George, who had no doubt been filling the ledger with everything he could observe from above, was now standing behind them. “You two both alright? It looked like once you got the hang of things it went brilliantly.”

“Sex is sex, Mr. Weasley, but if you are asking whether or not the bands kept us buoyant but weighted, the answer is yes.” He was on his feet, drying himself and pulling his robe around him before George could ask any further questions.

“Great,” the redhead beamed. “If you two have had it for the night, I mean it’s nearly midnight if you’d like to go, I’ll understand, we can always sort out the rest of that box tomorrow, or take a break from the bathtub stuff if you like, there’s still heaps of other stuff downstairs that needs to be looked over.”

“Indeed,” Severus said. He turned to Hermione and without preamble, leaned over and hauled her to her feet, holding her upright to keep her from pitching forward into his chest. He leaned close to her, his lips near her ear. “You’re going to want to clean up,” he muttered.

Hermione had no idea what he was talking about and frowned. She disregarded the comment and used her wand to dry herself, opting instead to change into her clothes. If they were done then they were done for the evening. It was chilly and she wanted the extra warmth. Taking to a corner she slipped into her bra and shirt and began to pull on her knickers. But as she pulled them up the tiniest droplet of pink splattered into the crotch of her panties and she groaned. She had known it was coming, and then it dawned on her that Severus had been referring to her menstrual flow with his subtly whispered comment. Her cheeks flushed a furious shade of pink before she began to wonder how he had known. Had she bled on him during their encounters? Why hadn’t she seen it? It would have to wait until they returned to Spinner’s End, as George was very unlikely to have any sort of feminine products lying around.

With a hasty goodnight, she collected her satchel of Galleons and did not wait for Severus before dashing down the stairs out into the street and disapparating. She was grateful to have arrived before he did taking a few minutes in the bathroom to right herself. It was mortifying to think that he had somehow noticed her period before she did. And then she wondered if George had noticed it too and had just been too polite to say anything. It made her sick to her stomach to think on it; adding to it the fact that she would have to tell George the next day that she would be mostly out of commission for product testing.

Hermione desperately wanted ice cream. She always did when she was hormonal. After she’d taken care of cleaning herself up and getting settled, she’d peaked into Severus’s freezer, disappointed that there wasn’t even so much as a pint of sorbet. He was home, she’d heard him come in when she’d still been in the bathroom. A part of her wanted to apologize; though for what she wasn’t sure, and another part of her desperately wanted to demand he go out and find her some chocolate ice cream. Though she knew the likelihood of him acquiescing her request was virtually non-existent. After having paced about in the kitchen debating on what to do, she sighed and was resolved to go and at least ask him where she could go at this hour to find a pint of chocolate ice cream.

Moving back up the hall she paused just outside of the bathroom door, seeing it ajar. She made to move quickly past, not wanting to disturb him while he was inside, but the sight she saw through the crack in the door gave her pause. Severus at the best of times was an enigmatic creature; but seeing him standing before the sink basin, reflected in the mirror above it, with a razor in hand and foam upon his face floored her. Logically she supposed the man shaved, but it had never occurred to her that the man actually took a razor and lather to his face. She was staring, her mouth slightly agape; unable to wrench her eyes from the sight before her. Naturally, every stroke of the blade was meticulous, leaving not one trace of stubble or foam in its wake, each tug of the razor across his skin slow and deliberate. It was fascinating; such a simple daily routine action, now in the hands of Severus Snape, and she found herself rooted to the spot, eyes affixed on his reflection as he shaved.

“If you’re going to stand there and gape, perhaps you’d care to open the door to better your vantage point, Miss Granger.” His words were dry; the scintillating sarcasm he was known for. Though she noted that he never took his eyes off his own reflection, carefully stroking the blade up under his chin until every last inch of foam had been cleared from his face. “What do you want, Granger?” he asked, delicately dabbing a wash cloth against his face before turning around and pulling the bathroom door open.

He towered over her in the doorway, eyes gazing down and immediately she felt her face flush fully. “I…” she trailed off and then cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I just— I’ve never…well it never occurred to me that you would shave,” she said realizing exactly how foolish she sounded the moment she said it.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. “And you just assumed that I maintain my looks with magic?”

Hermione gave thought to his words, pausing before speaking. “Well, I suppose not, it would stand to reason that naturally you shave since your face is always smooth.”

“Brilliant observation,” he muttered and brushed by her, moving back toward the kitchen.

She followed him down the small hallway, taking a seat at the table as he began to rummage through the cabinets after putting the kettle on. “Only— I suppose I never figured you shaved because I’ve never seen so much as a five o’clock shadow upon your face, let alone a trace of stubble…most men who look as clean shaven as you do generally don’t grow facial hair—” she paused, noting the way he continued about in the kitchen, gathering two mugs and setting strainers atop them for tea. “It just looks too perfect for shaving is all, so seeing you just surprised me.”

Severus sighed. “You are a prattling nuisance, Miss Granger.” He muttered and then set the mug down in front of her. “It isn’t chocolate or whatever it is you females tend to pine for whilst menstruating, however, I believe you will find that it will help alleviate cramping and ill-placed tempers.” Hermione was taken aback. He was making her tea to deal with her period. That simply floored her, and again the notion of her shock must have registered clearly on her face. “Don’t look so flabbergasted, this is a kindness for myself more than for you, I do not wish to have a raging hormonal woman turning the house upside down because of her menses.”

She would have been insulted had she not realized that it was the politest way possible for him to explain that he didn’t want her to suffer. Even if he had made it sound like he was doing it solely for his own benefit. This made her smile, though she was careful to do so only once he had turned his back to her. When he poured the boiling water over the strainer and into her mug she inhaled deeply, noting that he poured his own cup. It did smell relaxing; some queer blend of herbs that immediately eased her body. It did not, however, ease her mind from its questions. “How do you manage to look so perfectly smooth?” She asked. Hermione was bold in that moment, standing from the table while her tea steeped, moving over to where he leaned against the counter.

Hermione stood in front of him and with slightly trembling fingers reached up to touch his jaw. He flinched but did not pull back from her when she let her fingers trail down the length of his face, down under his chin and up over her cheek. His eyes stayed on her face until she lifted her fingers from his skin, letting her hand rest at her side, though she did not step back from him.

“I suppose telling you not to be so familiar with me at this point would sound absurd,” he rolled his eyes and stepped away from the counter, pulling the strainers back from both mugs of tea. With a wave of his hand they vanished. Severus picked up both mugs, handing one to her before taking his place leaning back against the counter. He sipped from the mug of steaming herbal tea and then set it down on the counter, eyes once more meeting hers. She was close to him, but not on top of him as she had been when she dared to touch his cheek. He studied her for a moment, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks. “It is the mark of a well kept man,” he said, tilting his jaw firmly upward.

“It just seems a little too perfect is all,” she said, the heat from the mug warming her hands.

“Ever the nit-picking observant one,” he muttered. When she did not relent with her gaze he sighed. “If you must know, Queen Curious, I use a glamour.”

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it wasn’t his sudden confession. It threw her, but only momentarily. Her immediate response was to ask why but she checked her tongue; if he had wanted to tell her why he would have told her so, she needed to be grateful for what she had learned from him in that moment. Nodding her head she sipped from the mug and tried not to sigh aloud. It was heaven in a cup; some sort of strange herbal liquid that she couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it slid down her throat with all the ease of honey and lavender without the cloying sweetness, and all the refreshing exuberance of mint without the potent sting.

“What else do you glamour?” she asked, wondering if her curiosity would earn her a reprimand.

Severus scoffed, again rolling his eyes as he slowly drank from the mug. “As if it’s any of your business,” he said. Hermione’s curious eyes began to roam his body, but one hand quickly tugged her chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want answers to,” he said, releasing her chin and stepping away from her.

“But I do want the answers, that’s why I ask,” she said, taking a step toward him. They were standing side by side, him still back against the counter, her close enough to touch him, but she refrained for the moment.

“You are far too curious for your own good,” he said after a long moment of intensely holding her gaze. “I suppose if the tables were turned you would find yourself free in the tongue to answer anything that was asked of you?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and sipped her mug. “I have nothing to hide, certainly not with a glamour, so sure, why not.” Severus snorted, a soft dark chuckle escaping his lips. “What?”

“Do you amuse yourself by lying to me?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her temper flaring just a bit as she felt her cheeks go red.

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat as she watched him place his mug on the counter, taking a step toward her. Their bodies were now but inches apart and she felt the little hairs at the back of her neck standing on end as he leaned in to her, his lips hovering just at her ear. The hand that cupped her backside made her squeak and again he chuckled darkly. “I suppose hiding that little rosy tattoo with a glamour doesn’t count?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Which would be all well and fine,” he said, lifting his head and stepping back from her. Severus crossed his arms over his chest, looking smug. “Had you not been so nervous the night you came into my room that you forgot to cover it up,” he said. His hand reached out, drawing their bodies close once more. “Just here…” his hand hovered over the low swell of her right arse cheek. “A rose, or a flower very similar, with red and purple petals.”

Hermione flushed. It occurred to her then that she had forgotten to cast a glamour over the miniscule tattoo. It was no bigger than her thumb, an embarrassing blemish that she had kept hidden when they worked in the workshop. But that night she had been nervous, and hadn’t given a second thought to the fact that he might have seen it while resting behind her, stroking her ass to calm and prepare her. “Why didn’t you say something that night then?” she huffed.

Severus chuckled again. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Miss Granger.” His patronizing tone only served to infuriate her all the more, but he spoke before she could bark at him. “Having never seen it while in the workshop, it made perfect sense that you were intent on hiding it, and it wouldn’t have made you any more at ease to bring it up that night. And since you’ve not shown it since, and I do not possess the insatiable curiosity that you do, nor do I insist on insinuating myself into your private life the way you have mine…”

His words made her bow her head, her cheeks flushed. She hadn’t meant to be intrusive with his life, she was only trying to get to know him. But in that moment she was still stinging with the embarrassment of being called out on her lie and on her tattoo. “It’s just a tattoo—”

“One that must have quite the story if you feel the need to hide it.” He remarked and then drained the remains of his tea.

The proverbial light bulb clicked over her head. “I suppose that’s the other thing you glamour then,” she said, stepping toward him, her mug now empty. She placed it on the counter beside his empty mug and was standing in front of him, their bodies not quite touching. “Your…tattoo,” she whispered, eyes immediately falling to his left arm. “The tattoo that has quite the story, so you hide it.”

She’d expected anger. She’d expected him to bark at her, to push her back and to tell her it was none of her business. Even though it had been everyone’s business when the war had happened. When he remained upright, eyes just searching hers she felt a knot tighten in her stomach, and wondered if perhaps she had tread too far into dangerous territory. Severus’ hand tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, rolling it up to his elbow. Muttering under his breath, Hermione watched in awe as the flesh on his forearm shimmered and revealed the faded, but still clearly recognizable dark mark.

Tremulous fingers reached forward, but his voice cut her short. “Don’t.” he said. Though it wasn’t harsh. He hadn’t hollered or commanded, just a simple word.

“You’ve touched mine,” she whispered and then gently let her fingertips brush over the faded ink.

“Are you certain of that?” he asked, the muscles in his forearm tensing at her touch.

“Your hands were all over my ass that night, and several times since, so yes, I’m certain,” she said, not lifting her eyes from the mark. It meant so many things, and she knew why he hid it. But seeing it up close; for the very first time since she was a little school girl fighting a war between grownups, it was breath taking in a frightening sort of way. She knew that the man standing before her, with held breath and tensed muscles, was not the same man that had taken the mark so many decades before. Her fingertips traced lightly over the outline of the ink, following its intricate pattern around until she’d touched every inch of it. Only when her palm rested over the mark, covering it from sight did he place his hand atop hers.

“That’s enough,” he said, and lifted her hand from his. Severus pulled his sleeve down, the mark and his arm hidden once more. “You need to learn not to be so—”

“So what, Severus?” she asked, cutting him off. She was leaning forward into him, their bodies touching, though layers of clothes kept flesh from flesh. “So bold? So curious?” Her eyes were twinkling as she leaned up toward him. Hermione’s lips hovered over his for a moment and she teetered precariously on the tips of her toes.

“Go to your room, Miss Granger,” he said, one hand gently pushing her back. He nodded to a tin canister on the counter near the sink as he brushed by her and stepped over to the table. “Two spoons in each strainer per one cup, let it steep three minutes,” he said and without another word he swept down the hall, disappeared into his bedroom with the door closing behind him.

Hermione was left standing in the kitchen, butterflies tearing up her stomach, her body throbbing and on fire. She couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened, but it certainly made the prospect of living with the man that much more complicated.


	11. Daring and Dealing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, there is exploration of Hermione during her menstrual cycle. It's very practical and not blood play, but that sort of thing is not for everybody. Menstruation is nothing to be ashamed of, nor is experiencing sexual urges or sexual practice during menstruation. But again, it's not for everyone.

Hermione’s mind was a whirling dervish. It had kept her from sleeping that night. She refused to admit that he was the reason that she couldn’t settle her thoughts long enough to find rest; chalking up the tossing and turning to the unusually painful cramps that were accompanying her menstrual cycle. She had been a fortunate witch since hitting puberty, never having the horrendous aches and pains she’d heard others complain about, mostly just suffering from mild headaches and bouts of unexpected fatigue. The fact that she hadn’t rested save for a few winks at a time only furthered the discomfort she found herself in when morning came. Over and over in her mind she ran the scenario of what had happened. His words; which kept echoing in her head made her mind melt trying to make sense of them. I suppose telling you not to be so familiar with me at this point would sound absurd. Though everything he seemed to say on the matter often sounded absurd to her, she tried not to read too much into it. Only doing so made her analyze it further, which resulted in more questions and a throbbing headache.

She couldn’t be bothered to pull herself out of bed for breakfast; partially because of the rolling cramps that were roaring through her lower abdomen, and partially for fear that she might encounter him in the kitchen. She’d been stewing on what she would say if she had encountered him; though nothing she’d thought of thus far seemed remotely close to good enough or even really appropriate. There was too much to think about. The fact that he had in his own right opened up to her; though to an outside eye one could hardly call it that. The fact that she had pressed his buttons yet again, forcing him to yield; though she suspected that he was only letting her think as much because Severus Snape yielded to no witch or wizard without standing to gain something in the process. She couldn’t, however, wrap her mind around what it was he had to gain by doing as he had done.

Unveiling his Dark Mark to her was more than just a gesture. It was something deep and puzzling; a permanent reminder of his past, of his shames. And to reveal them to her; a muggle-born of all people, it baffled her. She knew that he knew that she knew it was there. Ever since her fourth year and everything that had ensued during the war made that a fact of life. But to let her touch it, even if he’d brushed her hand away after a time; that was something that made her brain explode just trying to rationalize it. She knew that the mark, faded as it was, was nothing more than a reminder, a haunting token and souvenir of a life that had all but left him for dead at the end of the day. And while she knew that he was no more defined by it than she was by her blood status, there had been something stunning about him willingly allowing her to touch it.

It was her lingering touch that had caused him to brush her away. He’d tensed with her fingertips but it hadn’t been until she’d concealed the mark from view with her palm that he’d rebuked her, though gently, and left her alone in the kitchen puzzling. Trying to assign significance to that was like trying to unravel the seven wonders of the world. On top of that conundrum she was plagued by the fact that she had leaned into him after he’d covered his arm. While her words had been saucy her stomach had been shaking with nerves. Had she honestly intended to kiss him? The thought now swirled wildly in her mind. There was an inexplicable desire to taste his lips; the yearning inside of her flaring up every time she found herself in close proximity with the wizard.

Hermione rationalized that she had wanted to kiss him in the kitchen the night before for two reasons. The first being because it would have thrown him severely out of whack, and the second being that she desperately yearned to reassure him. Despite being sassy and giving him lip there was a need that burned inside of her to prove to him that the mark on his forearm held no meaning for her. He had taken the initiative to reveal it and therefore she reckoned that he must have thought that she still thought something of it. With a great sigh of frustration she rolled over into her bed and vowed to write all of her thoughts down in her journal just to try and keep her notions straight.

Too much thinking along with inadequate sleep and the surging waves of pain coursing through her uterus left her more than irritable when she finally hauled herself out of bed. At first she’d thought a heated bath would help, but remembering that she hadn’t bothered to enchant the plumbing to stay hot, she thought better of it. And then her body thought that some sort of sustenance might be in order, but remembering that Snape’s pantry had no chocolate or other rich comforting foods, she eventually found herself flopped back down her figure lying prone horizontally across the cushy mattress.

With her head buried in the duvet she hadn’t heard him in the hallway nor had she heard him standing in her doorway until he cleared his throat. When she lifted her head, craning her neck at an awkward angle back over her shoulder to keep from having to move off the mattress, she groaned; letting her head flop back into the sheets. “Do you always loom in doorways?” she grumbled into the fabric, though if he heard her he didn’t let on.

“Letters arrived by owl this morning from Mr. Weasley,” he said, tossing her letter without ceremony. It landed by her elbow. With another groan, Hermione felt about for the errant envelope until it was clutched in her fingers. Tearing at the seal, she lifted her head long enough to read its contents.

 

Hermione,

No work this evening there was some sort of explosion in the shop overnight, I think I forgot to lock up some of the pygmy puffs and they appear to have gotten into one of the latest banging bobber products. If you need the week for girl things, let me know and we can take a pause. Otherwise I have a few things that I think you and Severus can test tomorrow, found a bunch of stuff that looks like it’s reserved mostly for kissing and oral sex if you’re keen. See you tomorrow about half five.

George

She frowned. “Did your letter say the same thing?” Silence met her question and she rolled her eyes, though she knew he couldn’t see her. With great effort, Hermione forced herself over onto her back and propped herself up on both elbows. But she found herself gazing at an empty doorframe. Severus had vanished. With an irritated sigh she let the letter slip from her fingers. It floated to the floor and landed softly against the wooden boards just under the edge of the bed. She wasn’t sure whether to be distraught or grateful that George had canceled their evening’s work. At present she was in too much pain to think about testing anything let alone worrying about how she would do so while bleeding.  
After much debate she convinced herself that lying about in her bed all day was only going to make her cramps worse and that the least she could do was have a walk to the shops to retrieve some chocolate ice cream. Nearly a half hour of fussing with clothes that didn’t pinch her already bloated stomach found her dressed and in the kitchen with Severus nowhere in sight. For the moment she was grateful to be alone. She brewed herself a strong cup of the tea he’d prescribed the night previous and after consuming it felt marginally better.

Her trip to the shops had been mostly a success; procuring several pints of her favorite ice cream, double chocolate fudge ripple, as well as several bags of bite-size triple fudge brownies. Upon leaving the grocer it had begun to pour; the heavy storm dashing away all signs of daylight and Hermione made haste back to Spinner’s End, forgetting to pop by the chemist for a bottle of Feminax. Once again the kitchen was empty, as well as the sitting room. With his bedroom door closed she presumed he was holed away, doing what she didn’t care so long as he wasn’t bothering her.

It was a selfish indulgence; the chocolate ice cream which she would shortly be turn into drinking chocolate if she could find a saucepan. Not much in the mood to go banging about his kitchen, Hermione drew her wand and muttered. “Accio saucepan.” At first there was nothing, but when she tried again pointing in the general direction of his cabinets, a soft thump resounded from the one beneath the sink. When she opened the cupboard door a saucepan made its way out from the shelves and into her hand. It did not take her long to empty an entire pint of the ice cream into the pan and begin to liquefy it over the heat of one of the stove’s burners.

With a large tumbler brimming to the top with her makeshift hot cocoa and two bags of her bite sized brownies, Hermione retreated to her bedroom where she changed into a baggy oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Attacking the brownies as if she had been starving for days, she polished off the first bag in just a handful of minutes. She summoned a book to her lap and began to read, alternating between turning pages, popping brownies into her mouth and sipping from her tumbler of heated chocolate. She’d become so engrossed in the book that she hadn’t noticed he was once more standing in her doorway until he swept into the room, the blur of black in her periphery causing her to look up.

“You could try knocking,” she muttered when he stopped just at the side of her bed, appraising her with a quick rake of his eyes. “What?” she asked. Severus’ hand shot forward and snatched up what remained of her bag of brownies. “Hey!” she cried, glaring at him.

“It would seem you’ve had quite enough.” Severus waved his hand and her tumbler of half drank chocolate vanished from sight.

“Have you lost your mind?” she snipped, attempting to stand. A rolling wave of pain caused her to hiss and she pulled her knees close to her chest, forgoing the effort of getting up.

“The last thing I need is to be kissing a chocolate ogre with a spotty countenance on the morrow because you’ve over indulged to assuage your feminine pains,” he quipped.

“Chocolate is a proven—”

“Miss Granger,” he said holding his eyes steady as he gazed at her. “With as much chocolate as you’ve indulged it’s a wonder you haven’t turned into a bar of the stuff.” If she had a retort prepared she faltered as another wave of cramps rolled through her. Hermione hissed, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out fully. She loathed admitting that her chocolate consumption had not in the least helped her cramps and at present all she wanted was for him to get out of her room. Already she could feel her body tensing and then she could feel the sensation of pinpricks at the back of her eyes. The last thing she needed was to start crying for no apparent reason in front of Severus Snape.

“Would you get out, please?” she said through clenched jaw. When he made no show of leaving she growled in frustration; a sound caught halfway between a guttural cry and a shrill whimper. “Just go!” Had she been looking at him she might have noticed the way his eyes shifted to take in her figure, but at present she was curled up tightly in a ball, trying to bury her head in her knees while simultaneously burying her knees into her chest. She whimpered and shifted, digging her toes into the underside of her foot as far as they would go as she was struck by another rolling wave of pain.

“What is the matter, Miss Granger?” his voice was pinched and that seemed to be the final straw.

“I’m on my bloody period!” she snapped, her voice a sharp cry as she rocked her body back and forth! “Just give me back my chocolate and leave me the hell alone!”

“I am in no mood for your histrionics, Miss Granger,” he stepped closer to her bed. “Why don’t you just take a potion to calm the pain?”

“Because I don’t bloody have any!” she cried, her form now visibly shaking.

The irritated sigh that left his lips did not help her mood. “And did it not occur to you that living in a house with a Potions Master it might be prudent to ask for one?”

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from sobbing outright. His bristly personality and harsh mannerisms were intolerable in her current state. But her mind rationalized that she simply should have asked him for something. Wishing that she could get a handle on her raging hormones and the rolling pain in her lower abdomen, she shook her head, muttering into her knees; her voice muffled. “I didn’t think that you’d have such a thing here seeing as up until recently you were a male who lived alone.”

When he gave no reply she lifted her head to see him standing at her bedside with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes appraising her. It made her uneasy to have him looking at her as he was and if it wasn’t for the fact that squirming about was likely to make her cramps worse she would have wriggled under the duvet and hid from sight. Her eyes were wary as he moved around to the other side of her bed, bringing himself much closer to her. Hermione bit her lower lip when he perched himself on the edge of the mattress near her thighs.

Severus nodded at her midsection. “Take your joggers off,” he said.

“What?” Had she heard him correctly? Had he just told her to take her pants off? Hermione gazed at him with a look of sheer incredulity flashing in her eyes. When his hands moved to her hips she jerked back, banging her head against the headboard. “Damnit!” she cried, wincing as she touched the back of her head. “What are you doing?” He had waited only a moment after she’d hit her head before he started tugging at the band of her sweatpants. Hermione was struggling, her hips wriggling; which in hindsight only helped him ease her pants down her legs and off her body. She could feel a lump in her throat and for a moment she was tempted to kick at him.

But when he caught her eye she stilled, as if he had some sort of calming power over her. “As you so aptly put it, I do not have such a thing on hand. Had you made me aware of your pains earlier I could have brewed something,” it was an admonishment, but his tone was not harsh. Hermione tensed again when he pushed her shirt up a bit, exposing all of her stomach. His fingers were delicate as he pulled the front of her knickers down, pressing the material into the creases of her thighs to reveal the top of her hairless mound. She was trembling as she watched him tap the tip of his wand to each of his palms before tucking it away in his sleeve. When Severus pressed his palm down against Hermione’s stomach she hissed. “Too hot?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

His hand felt like a hot stone the kind used at the day spas during massages. The heat radiated through his palm, melting into her skin and began to ease the cramping she felt in her uterus. “N-no,” she stammered, closing her eyes as he pressed his other palm down against her skin. Both hands were now flat against her lower abdomen, one as hot as the other. Severus began to press slow deliberate circles around her stomach, up beneath her naval and out to the sides, back down and over her mound. He pressed the heels of his palms into the spaces where her ovaries were and she moaned softly, a great release of pressure flooding through her. Whatever peculiar magic he’d enchanted his hands with; she was thankful, too far caught up in the sudden release of her pains to even think about how intimate of a gesture it was. 

Each caress of his heated hands sent a burst of warmth flooding through her lower body; the rolling cramps little more than a dull lapping as he continued to massage her stomach. She let her eyes drift open, focusing on his face. He appeared deep in thought; concentrating on the patterns he made with his hands as he applied more pressure in a tender spot just above her mound. Hermione groaned and her back arched up slightly the feeling quite exquisite. It was the fastest most effective relief she had ever felt; though she had never truly experienced cramps the way she had that morning.

When his hands finally stilled against her flesh she frowned, but quickly let her lips fall flat not wanting to look ungrateful should he turn his eyes to her. Severus smoothed his fingers over the center of her lower abdomen before pulling his hands back. “Any better?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “Yes, thank you.” Her voice was a tremulous whisper, and she felt foolish for how she had shouted at him earlier. “How did you—”

“Decades of hormonal witches, Miss Granger. Naturally I never touched them, that’s what the hospital wing was for, however one does learn a great deal from the practices of others,” he said simply. She hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d been head of Slytherin House and that it was not a house mutually exclusive to men.

She paused, taking this information in and then posed another question. “Why are you doing this for me?” she asked.

“Can’t you ever shut off that damnable mind of yours?” he asked though he did not rise from the bed. “Sometimes, Miss Granger, a kindness, if you are so inclined to call it that is simply a kindness. There is no need to read more into it than what is there.” He nodded at her, eyes once more sweeping the length of her figure. “As I told you, having a hormonal witch tearing through the house is not something I look forward to, and I do not need you covered in breakouts come the morning if I’m to be spending tomorrow evening quite close to your face.” He paused for only a second. “I do not take kindly to breakouts, and do not intend to be broken out because you’ve rubbed off on me,” he said.

“I don’t usually turn spotty from chocolate,” she muttered.

“With as much chocolate as you were just indulging it’s a miracle that you aren’t one giant spot,” he said with a hint of a sneer on his lips.

“Must you be so cruel?” she protested.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He remained perched on the edge of her mattress, though when he’d been leaning in to massage her, he had shifted somewhat, bringing his thigh up to brush hers, and now it rested against her leg. She did not flinch when his hand reached forward and tugged at a stray clump of her frizzy hair that was hanging down on her shoulders. “You do intend to do something with this disaster before tomorrow?” 

Hermione clutched her hair a bit protectively. “What is wrong with my hair?” her voice was harsh, accusing as she glared at him.

A thin black eyebrow arched up on his forehead. “Aside from the fact that I keep finding it everywhere?” his voice gave her pause and she blushed. Having lived with her frizzy curls all her life she’d grown accustomed to the way it shed, and hadn’t given it a second thought when she’d taken up residence at Spinner’s End. Her thoughts were disturbed and her breath hitched in her throat when he ran his hand through the bushy mass, tugging his fingers back as they tangled in her curls. As he pulled his hand back she could see several kinky strands which had come free between his fingers. “And it gets in the way during testing,” he added.

Hermione hadn’t given much thought to the fact that her hair might get in the way when they had tested certain products at the workshop. She tried to recollect him fussing over her hair and the only thing that came to mind was his comment about it needing shampoo after she’d been thoroughly dipped in chocolate. It perplexed her that he would bring up his distaste for it now. She made a mental note to be more cautious about her shedding. She wondered if he was worried she would stop up the drain in the shower with it, but didn’t let her mind linger too long on that notion. Sitting in her bed half naked made her feel exposed with him sitting so close. It was a ridiculous thing to feel given that he’d seen and touched every inch of her, but there was something unnerving about her current situation. Perhaps her hormones were making her feel more vulnerable than she normally would have, but his intimate familiarity gave her pause.

She bit her lower lip, trying to quell her racing mind and ease her anxiety but the moment she did she felt his fingers against the swollen petal, plucking it back from her teeth. “Why do you insist on doing that?” he asked.

“It’s a habit,” she shrugged. “Does it bother you?”

Severus pinched her lower lip between his forefinger and thumb, watching it slowly retract as he released it. After several moments of just staring at her he shifted his gaze to the wall. “Are your cramps better?” he asked. If there had been a moment, it had passed. He had touched her, and that too had passed, though his thigh was still there against her leg. She couldn’t make heads or tails of him, but decided in her current hormonal state it was best not to try.

“For now,” she said. Hermione contemplated thanking him again, though it seemed rather foolish to do so. He wasn’t the type that appeared to take gratitude but she wasn’t the type not to offer it where it was owed. They sat in silence for long moments, Hermione’s mind aching with questions, though her body was no longer clenching in pain as it had been. She’d made up her mind after staring at his profile for a good while to lift her hand and place it gently on his knee. Severus flinched when she did, his knee jerking a bit, but he did not push her hand completely away.

“You are too bold for your own good,” he said, turning his head to meet her eyes. Severus placed his hand on hers; curling his fingers under her palm to draw her hand up but Hermione closed her hand around him, holding his hand in hers. This earned her a rather stern look but he did not pull away.

“Why do you flinch when I touch you?” she asked, keeping her fingers wrapped around his hand. “Does it hurt you?”

Severus was silent. He was staring into her eyes, and she felt as if he could read her mind. Everything she had thought about during the night; his mark, the way she’d touched him, the desperate need to kiss him, all of that seemed to be floating at the forefront of her mind and she wondered if he could actually read it. Hermione tried to think about other things, like Ginny and Harry Potter, or Mrs. Weasley but to no avail. His voice made all of her thoughts jerk to a halt. “Why do you insist on touching me?”

He had not pulled his hand away from hers, and that seemed ridiculous given the question he’d just asked her. But she for the life of her she couldn’t’ answer it. She realized it sounded beyond stupid to say because I want to, and saying such would probably warrant a good cuff round the ears had he been the violent sort. Hermione was grateful he was not prone to violent outbursts. There was no logical explanation for why she insisted on touching him; aside from her yearning to do so and knowing that it irritated him, neither of which seemed suitable reasons to utter aloud to the wizard. Her mind clicked over and she struggled mentally for a moment. Answer a question with a question, she thought. “Why are you so averse to my touch?”

Again there was silence between them. It was longer this time, and she noted that he was no longer looking into her eyes but down at the way she held his hand. Heat, though much less, still radiated off his palm and was warming her tiny fingers that remained curled around the sides of his hand. She wanted to lean in toward him, to place her other hand against his cheek and tilt his head back to more thoroughly gaze into his eyes. But she kept those impulses in check and waited, thinking he would speak. When he didn’t she very carefully calculated exactly what to say to him.

“I’ve noticed something about you,” she whispered.

The soft scoffing noise caught her ear. “Leave it to the queen of observations,” he muttered.

Hermione ignored his comment. At least he was no longer being awkwardly silent. Though she realized with what she was about to say that might change. Drawing in a deep breath to compose herself she leaned up from the headboard and brought her face much closer to his. “I was there that night,” she began. “I watched…inside the shrieking shack. And I know for a fact that you were bitten. You almost died,” she said. If he had plans of interrupting she was intent to keep him from following through. She hastened her words. “Which is so peculiar,” she whispered. “Because I know, I know that you have two marks…just…here…” she said and as she did she placed two fingers on the front of his throat, slightly lower and off to the side.

Severus’ muscles tightened, his pulse now visible in his neck as she held her fingers against his exposed skin. There was a visible rigidity that had crept into his body; leaving him stone stiff as he sat on the edge of her bed with her fingers now touching his throat. “And I know that they are there, and yet I don’t see them. I’ve touched your neck with both my lips and my fingers and I’ve never felt them.”

“Does your prattling have a point?” he demanded, though she could hear the strain in his voice.

“You glamour it as well,” she said; a bold statement. “But why?”

The silence that she had anticipated ensued. It was a foolish question; she could hazard a guess at the answer. A constant reminder of his near death experience; a constant reminder of what all he’d endured, naturally he’d want it hidden from sight. With him no longer teaching and no longer having need for the high collared stiff teaching robes a glamour was the next best choice. But when she’d brought up his Dark Mark he’d revealed something of himself to her, even if it had been miniscule. Hermione had hoped that mentioning this would do the same. Despite the physical attraction to the man that spun her off her head she found herself yearning to know more about the enigmatic ex-professor with whom she found herself coupling on a daily basis.

He hadn’t moved off her bed and she took it as a good sign. Her fingers were growing warm with the heat of his pulse; her eyes studying the sharp angles of his face as she waited for him to speak. There was the chance that he wouldn’t say anything, perhaps again reiterate how forward he thought she was being, but it wasn’t as if she could take back what she’d asked. She noted how pale he looked in the soft light of her bedroom, wondering if he were always that pale or if she was simply noticing it up close for the first time. She longed to move her hand; to slide her fingers up his jaw and cup his face, but she refrained watching as he lifted his hand and clutched her wrist, pulling it slowly back from his throat.

“The same reason that you hide this,” he said and drew a slender finger down the length of her left arm. Hermione shivered. “You need no more of a reminder than I of what was suffered and what was lost from that time.” Without another word he’d stood up from her bed and stepped back, crossing her room to the door. With his back to her he added softly, “No more chocolate today, Miss Granger. I’ll have a potion for you in a few hours time.”

Good to his word in a few short hours he’d slipped into her room once more and delivered her a potion. He didn’t speak only sat it on her dresser and then relegated his presence to his own bedroom. It hadn’t been the most pleasant tasting of liquids but it had continued to keep her cramps to a dull ache. The rain had continued to pour outside her window, not that she’d had any grand plans of venturing out for the day feeling as she did. But it made the atmosphere dreary. Hermione had sought comfort in one of her favorite muggle classics, reading through Sense and Sensibility from cover to cover. It was well into the evening when she finished though the raining sky made it impossible to tell the difference.

Deciding that a hot shower was in order she gathered her toiletries and shuffled off to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty. Not that she had imagined that he would be occupying the bathroom so late in the evening she was grateful nonetheless that she’d been right. The single shelf with its lone bar of soap reminded her that she needed to ask him about expanding things to accommodate her shower accessories. At present she settled for hanging the mesh kit from the showerhead as she stepped into its steaming heat. The shower at Spinner’s End did have relatively impressive water pressure all things considered. Stinging drops pelted down on her back feeling almost like a massage and it felt good.

Hermione leaned her hair back into the spray; immediately her curls became heavy against her head, soaked with the water and she let out a long deep sigh. The comments he’d made about her hair were floating idly about in her mind as she plucked up the shampoo from her shower kit. The lather was a thick slightly tropical scent smelling faintly of coconut and citrus as she worked it into her unruly curls. Sudsy bubbles covered her frizzy mane and she kept her eyes closed while washing her hair, all the while thinking about pins and ties to keep it out of his way when they returned to the workshop. She took her time rinsing and detangling her massive mess of hair before setting a great deal of conditioner into it.

She washed her body, a light clean smelling bath wash comprised of ginger and citrus, using a soft loofah to help her exfoliate. There was something lovely about just feeling the lather slide down her body and wash away under the downpour of the shower. It reminded her of him, which instantly made her body warm and blush. The way he’d touched her in the shower; the first time cleaning her off as if it had been his duty. Though he’d been meticulous and methodical it hadn’t felt cold and clinical. And then when she’d pressed her back into his chest and he’d all but rubbed her to completion with the magic soap; a shiver shot up her spine and she pinched off a moan in the back of her throat. Hermione was not about to play with herself in the shower; even if she hadn’t been menstruating it was far too nerve wracking to think about doing such a thing while in the same house as Severus Snape.

It dawned on her then that she was holding herself to standards in a fashion similar to her housemate. That while he insisted on restraining himself from pleasure during their work hours, she was timid and shy when they were home together. He’d watched her pleasure herself, albeit with the assistance of a toy, but the thought that he might hear her while she was in the shower was enough to turn her cheeks a raging shade of red. Just as he found himself being more familiar with her under his roof. That was a phenomena she could not explain; though to be fair most of those incidences he’d claimed were for his own benefit. She tried not to let her mind linger for those specific moments that came to mind were only furthering her arousal.

She did not find it appealing to attempt to be silent while experiencing pleasure. Part of enjoying the pleasures of the body was being able to physically and vocally express them. Keeping quiet did nothing for her, even when she tried, and it always led to her giving in and wailing or crying out. Hermione needed to focus her mind, get it off of the surly wizard in the next room over. Drawing her razor and a can of lather she decided shaving her legs was in order. It was a task that would set her mind to rights and calm her body from its desires.

Squirting a healthy dab of foam into her palm she stepped back from the spray and hiked her left leg up onto the edge of the tub’s basin, spreading the lather all over her skin. Up and down her calf and shin; slowly back under her knee and then up over it, going so far as to go all the way up her thigh. She didn’t usually shave that high, the hair on her upper thighs being fine and mostly unnoticeable. But wanting the extra distraction she finished lathering up and began slowly shaving her legs. All the while she tried to keep her mind focused on the task but found with each passing swipe of the blade that all she could think about was him. The way he spoke; the way his hands had eased away the pains of her cramps. The way his lips tasted on the few occasions that she had kissed him.

Her stomach was giddy with the next day’s work in mind; George’s note had said that the products could be used mostly for kissing. And oral sex; something she had found she rather enjoyed with him even if she wasn’t overly sure of herself in regards to being good at it. The idea of her lips curved around the thick head of his erect shaft made her shiver and she nearly nicked herself with the razor. Annoyed that she was once again fantasizing over him, Hermione rinsed the blade and then rinsed her leg. With one smooth leg and one unshaven, she set to the task of lathering up once more.

The thumping on the bathroom door made her shriek, the razor clattering against the floor of the tub as she dropped it. “Do you intend to monopolize my shower the entire evening?”

Naturally it was his voice, who else’s could it have been? But that hadn’t stopped her mind from worrying that it was an intruder. When she’d caught her breath and picked up her razor she leaned her head out from around the curtain, doing so to project her voice through the closed bathroom door. “I’m shaving my legs, I won’t be much longer.”

There was no response and she took that as a good sign. Hermione squirted another liberal handful of the shaving foam into her palm, this time lathering up her right leg. Careful strops slowly up the length of her appendage cleared away the foam leaving strips of smooth skin in the blade’s wake. Despite the fact that her head was ruled by a mass of thick dark frizzy curls, the hair that grew elsewhere on her body was lighter and far less noticeable. She paused, touching her hand to her hairless mound, frowning as she idly stroked the smooth skin there. Surely enough time had passed that something should have started growing back. She missed the slightly coarse pubic curls that kept her womanhood tucked away. Hermione had never understood why women bothered trying to do anything other than trim the curly jungle that grew between their legs; without hers she felt vulnerable.

Again the thumping on the door surprised her, only this time she managed to hold onto the razor. “Damnit, woman! Some of us in this house would like to use the shower while there is still hot water left!” he growled. He sounded more irritated than before, not as calm as he had been and Hermione sighed. She plunged her face forward into the spray, nearly having forgotten that she still had conditioner setting in her hair.

“I’m almost finished!” she hollered. “Please be patient!”

She knew that had she not been menstruating she wouldn’t have shouted with such a tone, but everything seemed to set her on edge. With a heavy sigh she turned around and leaned her head back into the spray, trying to enjoy the sensation of the water beating down into her frizzy locks. Conditioner helped, but only to keep them from getting too tangled. Her fingers slowly worked their way through the bushy mass; kinking and un-kinking sections as she rinsed the conditioner from her hair. The warm inviting scent of coconut drifted to her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. Her fingers were moving more slowly as she rubbed her scalp with her short nails; wishing that it were his hands that were combing through her hair. Her eyes opened and she shook her head; it wouldn’t do to be thinking such thoughts with him pounding away on the bathroom door.

“Miss Granger, there had better be hot water left. You have been in there half the night!”

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes, leaning her face back into the spray. Her hair was rinsed and her body cleaned but she still wanted to brush her teeth and scrub her face. Though she supposed she could brush her teeth outside of the shower, it had just been a habit to do so while in there. “You can either join me while I finish up or wait!” she shouted back, more irritated that he kept interrupting her routine than anything else. “I won’t be much longer!” She hadn’t meant for it to be a teasing comment, simply that he needed to have a dose of patience; Merlin thank his lucky stars the man had never become a doctor.

The shower curtain was ripped back suddenly and Hermione shrieked, clambering to the back of the shower, staring wide eyed as Severus stepped up over the ledge of the tub basin and into the spray of water. “What are you doing?” she cried, crossing her legs and throwing an arm over her breasts.

“Your words, Miss Granger. I grew sick of waiting.” He said. His backside was now facing her as he leaned his face into the heated spray, water soaking his lank black locks as he did. Hermione was floored. And flabbergasted, frozen to the spot disbelieving that he had taken her so literally and climbed into the shower naked with her. She couldn’t help herself as her eyes wandered down the smooth plane of his back, following the curve of his spine until it stopped at the split in his cheeks. Her cheeks colored red as she realized she was rather impressed seeing his fleshy but firm arse; a trail of water now trickling down his skin. “Stop staring,” his voice pierced her thoughts, shaking her.

“How did you—”

“Your eyes are likely to burn a hole in my skin,” he said and then turned around, reaching for the soap. Hermione quickly turned her head to the side, throwing one hand up over her eyes. She realized it was absurd, having seen him, touched him, sucked him and fucked him six ways to Sunday in the workshop and even a few times right there at Spinner’s End, but she couldn’t help her natural sense of modesty and embarrassment. She scrambled back, trying to frantically exit the shower but caught her foot on the edge of the tub and pitched backward, landing hard on her backside at the bottom of the basin.

She heard him sigh, her body crumpling around itself as his slender arm extended down to her. Trembling fingers took his hand, though she kept her gaze averted down and off to her left as he helped her to her feet. Drawn upright Hermione found herself in close proximity to the wizard, though they hadn’t been all that far apart to begin with as the shower wasn’t terribly big. Despite the steam from the showerhead and the heat of the water she felt a chill creep its way up her spine. There was something forbidden about being in the shower with him; even if he’d only come in to literally clean off.

His back was facing her once more, the bar of soap in his hand working its way up the length of one arm and then back down the other. He was fastidious even with his hygienic practice; though Hermione had expected nothing less. She’d previously never given much thought to how Severus Snape washed himself in the shower. When he bent to scrub his legs she was presented with a delicious view of his ass once more and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from expressing just how lovely she thought it looked. The memory of the way he’d responded to her touches in his most intimate place made her shiver and she quickly tried to chase them out of her mind.

But seeing his backside and thinking about the way he’d nearly lost all control was indeed a tempting thought. In her current condition she didn’t think herself bold enough to simply reach out and touch his ass, though had she been less bloated and feeling more sure of herself she would have. Hermione licked her lips and could feel her pulse racing. She needed to get out of the shower.

Severus straightened out his frame, replacing the soap on the lone shelf in the wall and turned into the spray. His face looked pinched when he laid eyes on her. Reaching one hand forward he caught the tip of her chin between his finger and thumb, narrowing his eyes at her. “Is there a reason you’re still lingering in my shower, witch?” he asked, clearly unhappy that she had not fled after he’d pulled her up onto her feet.

He’d put her off at the best of times but in that moment she was completely speechless. She had been trying to beat a hasty retreat from the tub the moment he’d stepped into it, but falling and being helped up had put a stop to that. She stood there frozen, no longer concealed by way of crossed legs, her arm no longer hiding her breasts. Her eyes were locked with his and she could feel her chest heaving up and down; something about him keeping her simultaneously petrified and electrified. “I…” she trailed off, her throat going dry.

“You…?” he let a thin black eyebrow quirk up on his forehead and then pulled his hand back from her chin. “Go, Miss Granger.”

“No,” she said, her voice not sounding nearly as bold as she had hoped. “You interrupted my shower and I intend to finish,” she added, wishing for all the world that her words hadn’t quivered as she’d spoke them.

There was a long pause suspended between them; the only sound filling her ears was the sound of the water as it poured down around them, mostly on him. His lips had puckered and it looked as if he were about to speak. But a rather loud crack of thunder echoed through the house at that exact moment, breaking the silence on his behalf. Hermione had forgotten all about how dreadful the weather had been; that it had been pouring all day. She hadn’t noticed until she’d headed to the shower that the downpour seemed to have intensified into a storm. And somewhere in the recesses of her mind she could hear her mother’s voice chiding her for lingering in the water too long during an electrical storm. But she didn’t have time to properly address whether or not that warning was merely an old wives’ tale because thunder crackled through the house once more, this time causing the lights to blink violently before sparking out.

Responding on instinct, Hermione screamed, more startled than frightened, as they were plunged into complete darkness. The shower did not stop, though she supposed that logically the plumbing was not connected to the electric. She could feel her entire body tight with nerves; terrified of taking a step for fear of slipping in the darkness. His hands suddenly bracing both of her shoulders made her jump and she bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming out again.

“One would have presumed growing up as a muggleborn that you would have experienced electrical outages during storms as a child, Miss Granger.” His voice was dangerously close to her ear but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was leaning close to her or simply because the sound of him was augmented by the darkness.

She was trembling; her naked body not getting enough of the spray to keep from getting chilled. It took a moment to find her voice. “It has been a very long time since I’ve lived in a fully electrical house, Severus.” She said. Hermione closed her eyes, though there was no difference of note in her vision. His hands were still on her shoulders; wet and heavy, but warm. A timid step drew her closer to his body and she could feel more of the water sluicing down over his torso and splashing onto her. “Do you have candles?” she asked.

“Not in the shower, Miss Granger.”

Hermione grunted. “I didn’t mean— oh, nevermind,” she muttered, but stood still. Opening her eyes she tried to pluck out any discerning characteristics that might help her see exactly where she stood in relation to him. But the bathroom was pitch black. She could not see her own nose in front of her face. There was no window that led to the outside world in the little bathroom. Even if there had been with the storm raging in full force she doubted any moonlight would have trickled through. Exhaling deeply she lifted her head up and brushed his chin with her crown. “Sorry,” she muttered and jerked her head back. But the jerking motion was a bit too hard and too fast, resulting in her smacking the back of her head against the wall of the shower. She bit her bottom lip to keep from shouting out, but it did not completely stifle the sound.

She could still hear the water pounding behind him, little sprays of mist splashing her chest. It wasn’t enough. There was nothing quite as uncomfortable as being in a hot shower without actually feeling the benefits of the heated water. Except for maybe being in a hot shower in total darkness with Severus Snape blocking said heated water. Hermione closed her eyes; more out of habit than of actual need to obscure her vision. She could feel him hovering, his body looming over hers simply because he was taller, and quite close to her as well. It was maddening.

“Do you think you can manage to get out of the tub and back to your bedroom without hurting yourself?” he asked.

That tone had surfaced again. Rigid but concerned; not the sassy annoyance that had permeated his voice when he’d first entered the shower. This was the tone that had continued to crop up from time to time in the workshop; the tone that made him strangely human to her with his hints of concern but authoritative way of going about it. With another little shift, Hermione turned her body, brushing against his though she did not immediately recoil this time. Her back was now leaning mostly against the side wall of the shower, her head resting there as well. His hip was touching her side, the contact felt delightful and she relished in it for a moment.

Hermione swallowed, drawing in a shaky breath before speaking. “I really just wanted to finish my shower,” she whispered. It was childish, probably even selfish but nothing in her day thus far had gone well. Topping it off with a power outage in the shower, which had been rudely and frighteningly interrupted by her housemate had done little to improve how she’d felt overall.

The hand on her cheek caused her to whimper, a sound stuck somewhere halfway between a gasp of surprise and a release of all her pent up hormonal frustrations. He had cupped the side of her face; his hand landing on her skin with crisp accuracy; no fumbling or groping. Hermione could hear his breathing, or perhaps it was just her own augmented against her ear as her heartbeat quickened. She was unaccustomed to his touch and wasn’t sure that she would ever grow used to it as it happened so infrequently. The heat from his hand radiated down through her face and filled her core with a surge of sensations that made her squirm ever so slightly, trying to melt back into the wall.

Thunder clapped through the house; the roof doing little to dampen the sound of the storm now in full rage. He shifted and the water from the she shower head spilled down over her front. Hermione gasped. Her heart was racing, thumping as loudly as the rain outside. His hand left her cheek and she all but cried out at the loss of his touch; half in relief and half in protest. But her body jolted when that same hand, his left, took hold of her hip, pulling her forward from the side of the shower wall.

“Are you still in pain?” he asked. His voice a strange mixture of that reserved concern, astute and surgical, and a curiosity that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“A bit,” she managed. Though her cramps now seemed a dull ache compared to the way her backside stung from falling on it. Hermione felt his body quite close to hers, but he had moved somehow, his torso now on the other side of her, facing into the spray of the water. She was surprised at just how hot the water had stayed given that she’d been in the shower for quite a while even before he’d interrupted her. The darkness enveloped them both but between the rain falling and the shower running there was no heightened sense of his movement. When both hands grasped her hips and pulled her forward she yelped but was spun around to face the spray before she could make another sound.

Hermione could feel his body just behind hers, not touching her but if he leaned forward or she rocked backward their skin would meet. Water pelted down her front and again she closed her eyes. The darkness was the same but with the water now streaming at her she felt the need to keep her lids down. Severus’ hands had remained on her hips but she felt his left hand sliding around her torso. His palm stayed flat against her skin and she bit her lower lip. Her entire body was suddenly strung tight on edge. There was no heat in his palm this time as he began to apply pressure to her. She winced when he pressed in a bit harder with the heel of his hand.

“Are you wearing a tampon?”

The question floored her. She half whipped her head around to show her shocked expression to him but then remembered that the room was too dark to see. There was nothing sexual in his tone, but nor had his question been harsh and calculated as so many of his questions had. Despite the way he’d sounded there was something terribly erotic and simultaneously repulsive about it and it upended her senses and logic for a moment.

Two fingers slid down over her mound and parted her lips. She’d been standing with her legs far enough apart to allow him this easy access. There were no words as she felt his fingers pluck the now wet string from where it clung just against her skin. It was a slow pull, firm and sure, and she felt her muscles contract a bit as he pulled the tampon from her center. Hermione whimpered, her body asunder with feelings of terror and arousal and a number of things she couldn’t identify. The tampon fell to the floor of the shower but she hardly heard it over her own heartbeat resounding heavily in her ears.

Severus’ other hand, which until that point had been on her hip, now slid back and pushed against the small of her back, fingertips pressing into her spine. “Bend forward,” he said. Without objection she found her body yielding to his command, her upper torso now tilted into the shower stream, her body pitched forward just at her waist. Immediately her core flooded with heat. All rolling pangs of aching pain that had been plaguing her since the morning seemed to dissipate into thin air.

His hand was massaging her mound; the heel of his palm digging up into her stomach and she moaned. What had moments ago been painful was now terribly pleasurable and she tried very hard not to clench her thighs for fear that he might stop administering whatever delicious torture he was giving her. Their bodies did not touch, save for his hand holding her back down and the hand that continued to shift the pressure at her lower abdomen. Hermione couldn’t explain it. She didn’t dare try. In all her years of being a woman, ever since her first menstrual cycle, she had never suffered the horrendous cramps that she had suffered that day, but his hands were pure blissful magic in releasing her from her torment.

If he noticed her moans, or minded them, he said nothing. He was quiet behind her and that made it all the more surreal. She could see nothing, she could hear nothing save for the shower and the rain storm; she could only feel his hands upon her. The hand that was pressed down on the small of her back, and the hand that was dangerously close to her opening. His fingers rested just between her legs and a simple movement could bring him to penetrate her. Again Hermione bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as a particularly intense wave of sensations rolled through her core. He was a wizard, a fact taken for granted, but whatever he was doing to her was pure sorcery.

His hand stilled on the underside of her belly and Hermione was about to protest when she felt his fingers prod at her entrance. Her body went rigid. What was he doing? During their testing it had not often presented itself; products that required him to finger her. Once during the deflowering product or the occasional swipe through her folds here and there checking her after a product had finished. She could feel her chest tightening in a strangely familiar fashion.

“Ease up,” the sound of his voice floated to her ear. “The idea is to relieve you of the pain, not add to it.”

But she couldn’t concentrate on his voice, only that her body was desperate to feel those fingers fill her. There was something insane about the way her raging hormones seemed to augment her desire for him. Normally the thought of being mid-cycle and having a man anywhere near her would have been enough to make her sick, at least Ron had always thought so, though he’d never thought twice about begging for blowjobs during her cycle. She sobbed, a strangled cry of intense pleasure as he pushed two fingers up into core.

Hermione felt his hand slide down her back and replace the hand that was now pressing up inside of her. Again he began to manipulate her lower abdomen with pressure surging through the heel of his palm. Only now there were two fingers inside of her, gently thrusting in and shifting against that forbidden spot that always seemed impossible for Ronald to find whenever he’d fumbled about with what he called foreplay.

Her hips rocked against his ministrations; the pressure intense but exquisite and it felt as if every rolling wave of pain she’d suffered all through the day was releasing through her body, transformed by his fingers into swirling pleasure. She no longer cared that she was bleeding, she didn’t care about the mess that she couldn’t see in the darkness of the shower; only that he didn’t stop what he was doing as she keened and whimpered, rocking her hips that much harder against him.

“Easy,” he growled, the hand that had been applying pressure to her stomach now firmly gripping her hip to hold her in place.

“S-sorry,” she whimpered, barely aware that she had responded to him. The sensations that were shooting through her body defied logic. They were unlike any sort of pleasure she had ever felt before. She had never attempted any sort of sexual encounter, not even of the masturbatory variety, when she was on her period. But her mind was quickly lost again as he began to once more press about on her stomach, all the while keeping her bent over with his fingers curling inside of her.

The thunder rolled, the shower water thundered, and Hermione moaned. Her body was a tightly wound knot; all her senses erupting at once with the sensations of release and pleasure. Her body shook and this time she sobbed outright, nearly losing her footing had it not been for his arm sweeping under her to hold her in place. His fingers were still inside of her; though they no longer moved, and she jerked in his arms, her body twitching in some sort of post-orgasmic ecstasy. Her breath came in gasps, and though she could still not see anything, she could feel him there, standing just behind her, holding her bent body up on its feet with one sturdy arm.

It wasn’t until she stood up straight that he eased his fingers from between her legs. She felt him reach over her shoulder with both arms in the spray, most likely washing his hands. She turned, still slightly unsteady on her feet. In turning she’d brought her face flush against his chest. Hermione didn’t think twice about resting her head there. There were no arms embracing her, nor did he lower his head and nuzzle her hair. But Hermione noted in the haze of her mind as her breathing returned to normal that he did not push her away from his chest.

The warmth of his skin against her cheek felt cozy in comparison to the now tepid water that was still pelting down against her back. That was the first time that she had noticed the water was no longer hot and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been that way for a while or if it had just changed over. Hermione sighed and lifted her head. She squeaked in surprise when a zapping noise filled the room and the lights suddenly surged back on.

She was certain there was a full red blush in her cheeks as she stood looking at him, their bodies practically touching. Her lips were pursed to speak but he beat her to it. “So help me if you ask me one bloody question, Miss Granger, I swear I shall drown you here in this shower and make it look like an accident.”

“But how did you know that— that doing— well, that,” she said, feeling her face tingle further with heat. “Would do what it did?” she paused a moment and then narrowed her gaze at him. “And no you won’t because George will ask questions and you’ll be out one job.”

For a moment Severus stared at her as if he might actually murder her. She didn’t flinch when he reached over her shoulder and killed the water as it was now running cold. Then he sighed. Hermione tried not to smile at her miniscule victory in that moment. But she did shiver as it was now quite cold in the shower. Another moment longer they stood there, their bodies dripping with the remnants of the shower, before Severus pulled the curtain back completely and stepped out of the tub.

“Where are you going? You didn’t answer my—”

The finger pressed firmly against her lip silenced her. “I do not intend to stand here drying in the chill of the shower, Miss Granger,” he said pointedly. “We shall both catch cold,” he added and then turned his back to her, summoning from thin air three towels. She was surprised that he had summoned three as he pinned one around his waist, handing her the other two. And then she realized the third was for her hair. It warmed her heart to think he was being thoughtful but that too must have been written on her face for he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t wish your wet mop to be leaving a trail of water through the house, you simpering sentimental child,” he said.

Hermione waited until his back was turned once more before pulling a face with her tongue stuck out in his general direction. She ruffled her hair into the towel and fastened it up around her head before wrapping her body in the other towel. They were fluffy, thick and warm, and she was grateful because she had grown quite cold in just those few moments that they were no longer in the heat of the shower. She watched as he exited the bathroom and padded up the hall to his bedroom.

“I still want to know!” she called after him. Severus gave a dismissive wave in her general direction before slipping into his bedroom and closing the door.

Over an hour had passed when Hermione was interrupted in her reading. She’d dressed, cleaned herself a bit and settled into comfy evening clothes and was wrapped in blankets in her bed when he’d appeared in her doorway. How long he’d been standing there she hadn’t the faintest but when a large black shadow had appeared in the periphery above the book she’d been reading she’d looked up and the sight of him had startled her. “Must you?” she said, her brows furrowing in annoyance. She swore she saw him smirk as he entered her bedroom and casually leaned himself against the wall near her bed. “I have a chair for that,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“If I wanted to sit, I’d sit on the bed,” he said, his voice slightly cheeky.

This caused her to flush. It unnerved her and threw her off-balance when he became cheeky and not in his usually sarcastic fashion with her. She couldn’t put her finger on what he was playing at but it made her nervous just the same. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice as even as she could manage, though she knew a blush was once again playing havoc with her cheeks.

He was quiet for several moments just staring at her. This unnerved her all the more. His gaze, even at the most innocuous of times was unsettling but when he was purposefully focusing it on her all she wanted to do was look away. But she was determined to hold her ground with him. After all, they worked together and they lived together. And they fucked each other. For work, her mind reminded her. Though another little voice in her brain chided in quite quickly, that shower had nothing to do with work.

“I trust that you know absolutely nothing about a witch’s menses,” he said.

Her embarrassment be damned he was just being downright insulting in that moment. “Don’t be—”

“Or else you wouldn’t have been using a tampon, Miss Granger.” He said, holding her gaze for a moment. Her face puzzled and she bit her lower lip. “And there it is, the quandary that was bound to surface, as presented through a look of confusion and bitten lower lip.” He leaned forward quite quickly and pinched her lip between his thumb and finger until she pulled her face back from his hand. “You will learn to stop that habit,” he added before resituating himself casually against the wall.

Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around why he was so vehemently against her lip-biting habit, but she had bigger questions now winding through the cogs of her mind. “What do you mean that I don’t know about a witch’s menses?” she asked, sounding a bit foolish. She’d had her period since she her second year at Hogwarts how on earth could he imply that she didn’t know about it?

Severus sighed. “It is evident that you are aware of a woman’s menses, Miss Granger,” he said rather flatly. “Witches are not usually impacted with the full weight of their magical menses until their late 30’s, though I imagine the intensive sexual stimulation you’ve had as of late has awakened yours early.” Hermione made to interrupt him with questions but he raised his hand to silence her. “I will not play encyclopedia to your insatiable curiosity on the subject, I have a book for that,” he said and from behind his back produced a thick leather bound tome. 

He tossed the book onto the bed, it bounced slightly on the mattress before settling beside her. “Thank you,” she said looking at him with uncertainty. When he didn’t make to move from the wall, she nodded with her eyes to the edge of the bed. She was shocked when after a moment he moved forward and sat, turning his head to look at her. Hermione wanted to surge up from her spot against the headboard and sit beside him, anything to garner more of his touch, but forced herself to restrain that impulse. Instead she picked up the tome. “I can imagine you must have brought it to my attention because it’s dangerous,” she surmised carefully.

There was a palpable silence that filled the air. It killed her to wait but she feared if she barraged him with questions he would storm out of her room and leave her with the book. Though she was eager to read it cover to cover as apparently there was an entire tome’s worth of knowledge she had to learn about herself awaiting her suddenly, she was not so eager to be rid of his presence. When he finally spoke she listened attentively, never taking his eyes off his lips.

“A magical build-up of that level can be harmful, yes. It also causes a great deal of excruciating and unnecessary pain,” he added. “Never experienced symptoms like that before, I trust?” he asked. Hermione shook her head. “Indeed.” He said after another moment in silence. They remained quiet on her bed for several more moments. She refused to press her luck with questions or with moving, and he being of little words and enjoying his silence, not seeming to mind that she was finally enjoying not talking.

When he rose from the bed she did her best not to protest or pout. “It’s a very easy technique, you can teach yourself to do it,” he said as he moved toward the door.

“Have you—”

Severus froze her question with a withering look from the doorway.

“I was only going to ask if you’d sent an owl to George about tomorrow,” she said. It hadn’t at all been what she was going to ask him but it was something that they needed to discuss.

“I have not.” He said. “That is up to you, but given this evening’s encounter, you should know that it makes no difference to me as to what state you’re in,” he said.

“Right.” Hermione blushed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of his fingers inside of her and how he’d relieved so much pain and tension by causing her such extreme pleasure, and all while she’d been bleeding; it was too much not to blush. “Erm, I think I’m alright to test whatever it was he’d found, I’ll owl him in the morning.” Severus simply nodded at her before sweeping out of her bedroom, leaving the door open.

~*~

The next evening found her back in the workshop. Hermione was relieved that her monthly cycle would be giving them a break from the bath product line as they seemed to have a greater potential for danger than anything else they’d tested thus far. Of course, it was only the red snapping bubbles that had really done her in and Severus had been quick on his feet to put her out of harm’s way in that situation. She’d arrived early to the workshop and had been surprised to find Severus already there. For living with the man she knew surprisingly little about his transient habits of when he came and left the house.

She’d hardly slept a wink the night before. Even if he hadn’t saddled her with the enormously fascinating tome, though it did help take her mind from the insanely sensual encounter in the shower, she would not have found sleep an easy task. The text had been informative, and truly a wonder. How had she managed to overlook such an important part of her education? She had always heard rumors about magical strengthening through sexual actions and tantric magic and things of the like, but she’d dismissed them with the other hocus pocus nonsense of the like, divinations and all that rot. But the tome had references and citations that could not so easily be dismissed or refuted and it made her long to learn every detail she could on the subject.

“Hello, Hermione,” George greeted her with his customary grin. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve made our first contract,” he said and nodded to the roll of parchment he had on the little work desk in front of him. “A shop that specializes in lingerie in Hogsmeade is looking to invest in a few of the products that have already been buzzed about through town.” He was practically bursting at the seams with glee as he told her the news. This did not surprise Hermione in the least. Weasley products of all sorts had been a massive success when he and Fred had sold them on secretive order forms at school, and now that the prankish sexually themed goods would be available at Hogsmeade she was certain he was on his way to a fortune. She didn’t spare the fact that they might be encouraging underage sexual involvements a second thought.

“Well that sounds brilliant,” she said, returning George’s grin. She was hoping he wouldn’t make an awkward scene about what exactly they would be testing, though she supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal. She was feeling a great deal better after Severus’ pelvic floor massage. The pages of the tome had told her that such a massage often eased the worst of cramps in menstrual witches and could be achieved manually, with a partner or other object. She did not wish to think about doing so manually nor did she believe it would be as good as it had felt with Severus just behind her. She tried to strain her brain to think about how it had affected him but try as she might she could not recall if she had noted an erection on him when they’d been in the shower together.

“We’ll get right to, then,” George broke her thoughts apart and pointed to a box he’d had on the table. It was the same box that had held the spray can panties. She frowned. “I found a few more bits and bobs in the lingerie collection, though that we’ll probably hold off on. At the bottom of the box I found a whole slew of products just for snogging feel-ups and blowjobs. Looks like Fred was thinking about the erm, junior market,” he said with a bit of a blush.

Hermione knew it to be true that while not every student at Hogwarts was a raging ball of hormones who wanted to go all the way, there were couples that dated and often those dates included things like snogging and feel-ups. She noted absently that he’d specifically said blowjobs and not oral sex, though she figured that it would be pointless to test products designed to be used on women as the thought of having Severus go down on her in her current state was horrifying. To have him behind her in the shower in total darkness had been one thing, and for another they had been in the shower. But the notion of oral sex during her cycle was more than she could bare.

“Right, so what should we start with?” she asked. All the while Severus had remained silent. Though he did not interject he had not taken his eyes off her since she had entered. It made her nervous though it shouldn’t have. What was going on behind those dark impossible to read eyes of his? Her mind couldn’t stop wondering. But before she could over think it, George had pulled what appeared to be a tube of lipstick out of the box. It was a garish red plastic tube and if the color of the plastic outside was the color of the product itself she was certain she wasn’t going to like it. “What is that?” she asked.

“Tingle stick,” he said, glancing at the label. All too quickly George was back on his stool flipping through the endless ledger of notes. It was as if nothing had changed.

Hermione took the tube from him and pulled the cap off. It was surprisingly not the color of its plastic casing and for that she was grateful. “Ugh, cherry,” she muttered. “Well…” she trailed off. “What’s this thing meant to do?”

“A tingle stick to stick it to your lover. A quick tingle that will stick all night long,” George read and then shrugged his shoulders. “Guess it’s meant to be a bit like the tongue tinglers? Except for your lips. Something that lasts a bit longer and perhaps is a bit more subtle. Or maybe is more intense. It would be nice if Fred had left behind some sort of comparison chart.”

Hermione stood on the side of the table and waited for Severus to come around to stand beside her. She twisted the base of the tube and watched the pale pink stick, which appeared to shimmer in the light, rise out of its plastic. The cherry scent had been overwhelming but was not as potent once it was on her lips. Immediately she felt the tingling, not dissimilar to the tongue tinglers. “It makes my lips vibrate,” she said, her words sounding just a little muddled. Her lips looked glossy and if one looked closely they could be seen vibrating against each other while at rest.

“Alright, give him a good snog and then Severus you can take your trousers down and she can have a go.” Hermione wasn’t sure which was worse. Being told to give Severus Snape a good snog or to have a go once he’d dropped his trousers. While both would have been appealing acts under normal circumstances there was nothing normal about the line of work they’d both found themselves in. Though if it bothered Severus at all she would never have known it from the way he stepped toward her. Even her most unsexy of states, which she felt presently, he had a way of switching on some deep-seeded arousal inside of her. That was something she was going to have to work on repressing, she had decided.

Hermione locked eyes with Severus for a moment and did not speak before leaning up toward him. His hand cupped her cheek and she noted that nearly every time they had kissed he had made this gesture and she wondered if it was a force of habit or if there was some other significance behind it. This is what he means, you twit, when he chastises you for over thinking things. Her mind was chiding her as their lips met. It was strange; the buzzing and vibrating all through her lips now pressed against his. She imagined that if one had ever practiced a blowjob on a vibrator that it might feel a little like her lips did at the moment.

“So far so good,” she heard George say. She’d held onto conscious thought as best she could as she felt his tongue slip into her mouth. There hadn’t really been any reason to deepen the kiss, though she wasn’t complaining. Though had it been him to initiate it? Hermione couldn’t recall. Perhaps with all the vibrations happening on her lips she’d pressed her tongue against his lips and he’d obliged her. Either way that warm and inviting taste that was him invaded her mouth and she sighed with contentment into the kiss. Out of her own forced habits, she wrapped an arm around him and pulled her body closer to his. This broke their kiss. Hermione felt a wave of panic sweep up through her, but she noted that he did not push her back, rather remained in her arm-armed grasp, eyes searching hers. Was he staring at her with curiosity?

“Alright then?” George asked.

“Fine,” she buzzed.

Severus nodded. “Nothing unpleasant.” He easily slipped from Hermione’s half embrace and began to undo the button and zip of his trousers. “Though it’s rather boring after just a moment or so, novel perhaps but at only one speed of vibration a long snog might become numb.” George scribbled frantically in the ledger while Hermione watched Severus make a ceremony out of sliding his trousers down his hips. He carefully stepped out of them, folded them neatly and sat them on the marble work table. He slid his boxer shorts down his leg as well and folded them atop his trousers, standing naked from the waist down, awaiting her move.

“Oh! I— here—” George reached down and grabbed a large puffy pink pillow from seemingly nowhere. He chucked it over to the work table. It nearly hit Hermione upside the head and it would have had Severus’ arm not shot out and snatched it. “For your knees, Hermione,” he said.

It caused her to flush, but she took the pillow anyhow and set it on the ground at Severus’ feet. Kneeling down, Hermione braced one hand on the side of thigh and gently leaned her buzzing lips forward. She noted with a frown that already the buzzing was starting to fade. She wondered if the lipstick was meant to be reapplied. Pressing her lips together for a moment she also noted that they felt sticky, as if she’d laid syrup on them. Had they felt sticky before? She couldn’t recall. “George my lips feel a little sticky,” she said, her speech much more articulate now that the buzzing was a dull hum.

“Huh,” he said scratching his head. He flipped the page over, scanning it. “No notes about sticky lips,” he said and then gave a little shrug. “You sound better.”

“The buzzing has faded significantly,” she said. “Should I reapply it?”

“Nah, see how long it holds out before it’s gone altogether,” he said.

Hermione nodded and then leaned her lips forward and pressed a tentative kiss against the base of Severus’ flaccid cock. Much like she, he was still hairless from where the depilatory cream had been used on his nether region. She wondered if their hair would ever grow back. The slight vibration caused his cock the slightest twitch but otherwise he remained limp. She closed her eyes, nervous but aroused, and she brought one hand in front of her to hold his length. Taking the tip between her buzzing lips she gently swirled her tongue around his head. She could feel the vibrations all but die out.

Moving her lips down his shaft her chest seized with panic as she felt them stick slightly to his flesh. Hermione tugged her head backward but to no avail. Her eyes grew wide and she made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. She had Severus’ cock in her mouth, though thankfully he wasn’t aroused, and could not move her lips from around him. The tingle stick had stuck her lips to his shaft. Frantic eyes gazed upward as she grabbed both of his hips and tried to pull back away from him.

Severus put a heavy hand on her head, hissing slightly through clenched teeth. “Weasley your bloody product has backfired,” he growled.

George, who had been scribbling away in the ledger, looked up and suddenly looked ashen. His face fell further when he saw the little bits of water beginning to well up in Hermione’s left eye, the only eye he could see from her current position. “Ah bullocks,” he muttered and quick-stepped over to where Severus stood. “Hermione, can you move your lips at all?” he asked, gently turning her head this way and that.

She moaned; an unintelligible sound with her mouth full of his cock, her lips quite firmly stuck as if the gloss had somehow hardened into glue. Shaking her head she tried once more to pull herself free, resulting only in another growl from Severus and further panic sweeping through her chest.

“I’ll take the stick over there and run a quick analysis to see what sort of compounds and magic he’s used,” said George. He grabbed up the stick and dashed off to the far side of the laboratory.

“Stay calm.” Severus’ voice was low but firm. He tugged slightly on her hair to force her eyes up to his. “Deep breaths, don’t move around,” he instructed her. Hermione could already feel her throat closing off. But it couldn’t be closing off, he wasn’t hard. He was soft in her mouth. Her tongue slid, feeling heavy with the weight of him and again his hissed. “Try not to do that…I can restrain myself but so long from physical stimulation and it’s difficult enough with the heat of your mouth.” He was being honest, his voice pinched as he spoke.

She couldn’t imagine the horrors if he suddenly grew erect in her mouth with her lips stuck to his flesh as they were. What if the force of his erection ripped the bond of the trick adhesive, tearing her lips and his cock? She shuddered at the thought. She could feel his cock twitching slightly and again she whimpered, trying to keep her tongue as still as she could manage. Tears were now streaking down her face as further panic set in. Ripping her lips and his flesh were no longer the biggest fear that possessed her mind; what if he became erect and she asphyxiated?

Firm hands cupped either side of her face, tilting it upward slightly. “Stop that.” He said. His voice was not harsh, but commanding, and in a strange way comforting. The rough pads of his thumbs swiped under her eyes to wipe away her tears. “This is part of the job,” he said. “Uncomfortable, and dangerous but nothing that needs panicking over,” his tone was low, almost a whisper that she was certain George could not hear. That was something she had always admired about Severus; no matter what the situation was he always seemed to maintain his composure. He was calm. She needed to be more like him.

Drawing in a trembling breath through her nostrils the nodded her head. He did not take his hands away from the side of her face as George returned. “It’s simple enough, a bit of water and Mrs. Scour’s should do,” he said and then made to dash off to his apartment. “Sorry,” he added before vanishing out of the workshop. It felt like an eternity before George returned with a tall tumbler of water mixed with Mrs. Scours. “Easy now,” he said standing on the side of them, one hand braced on Hermione’s shoulder, the other guiding the tumbler to her lips.

The water was hot, not scalding, but unpleasant. She winced as the mixture made contact with her skin. It tingled and stung a bit but already she could feel her lips coming loose. She waited just a minute until she was certain she could move both of her lips fully. Hermione pulled back from him, panting and sniffling.

“Everyone alright?” George asked. “You’re going to want to go rinse off, both of you. Mrs. Scour’s can be pretty caustic.”

Hermione could already feel her lips beginning to sting a bit and she frowned, still feeling shook up from the experience. “Should we go upstairs?” George nodded at her and without waiting for Severus she headed out of the workshop. The bathroom in his flat was still elaborately laid out with all of the bathroom waterworks that they would no doubt resume testing just as soon as her cycle finished. While she moved to the far side of the bathroom and began to run the water in the sink she heard one of the showers start behind her. Looking over her shoulder through the mirror she saw Severus in the shower rinsing off. Where his shirt had been discarded to she hadn’t a clue, but the image of his naked backside nearly distracted her from the stinging in her lips.

Potions had taught her that a mild touch of soap with water would ease the contact sting. She began to rinse her face and gazed into the mirror. Hermione looked alarmed when she noted that her eyes were slightly red but then she remembered that she had been crying. Cupping her hands she filled them with water and then splashed her face, trying to put the embarrassing incident behind her. She chalked up her overreaction to being hormonal. Though she wasn’t the calmest of witches during a crisis, the excessive tears and worry was most likely because she’d been on her period and her body was out of whack. If what she’d read about magic shifting in menstrual blood was accurate she’d only been overloading her body with tampons, which had resulted in further emotional instability and might even explain her insatiable desire toward Severus.

“Are you alright?” his voice was low and immediately behind her. It had startled her but she only jumped slightly as she looked up into the mirror to catch his eye. He was donned in his workshop robe but looked no worse for the wear. She nodded her head, not trusting her own voice to speak. “Turn around, let me see,” he said. Without thinking she obeyed. Did he not trust her to safely cleanse away the solution that had separated her lips from his cock? Or did he simply wish to look her over? She sighed as he cupped her cheeks, turning her head slightly to the left and then to the right. He pressed his finger against her lips and parted them gently, swiping his fingertip around the perimeter of her lips. Severus pinched her lower lip and she pulled her head back a bit. “You should still be able to bite it,” he said, his lips curling upward slightly.

Hermione let her head fall forward against his chest. When he immediately lifted it she felt a tightening in her own chest. Severus’ arms were strong as he turned her around though she offered little resistance as she found herself facing the mirror once more. His body was closer to her than before, pressing against her backside but only just slightly. Both hands now rested atop her shoulders. He was a good two heads taller than her and she could clearly see both of their faces in the mirror. She studied his eyes, her body trembling just slightly though why she couldn’t fathom.

“You need to keep your composure,” he said making eye contact with her through the mirror.

“I think it’s the hormones,” she said. She half believed her words.

“I know.” Severus ran his hands up the side of her neck and began to gather up her hair. Hermione’s eyes fell closed and she tried very hard not to lean back into his body. He was touching her, caressing her in a sense and it made the sensations from the previous night’s shower flash behind her eyes. She inhaled sharply when she felt him twist her hair up, exposing her neck, and then she winced a bit, opening her eyes when he jabbed her in the head with what felt like the tip of a feather quill.

Her eyes met his in the mirror and although his hands were no longer touching her, his body had stayed quite close. He’d wrapped her hair and pinned it up the way she had the night he’d instructed her on how to give a blowjob. Hermione shook her head slightly. “I don’t understand you.”

Severus scoffed. “You ought to stop trying,” he said. He stepped back from her and the moment was gone. If there had been a moment at all. Perhaps he was right, she was trying to create something from nothing. After all what had actually happened in that moment at the sink? He’d come over to check and see if she’d survived the incident in the workshop. Nothing more. Except he’d bothered to pin her hair up, which could have been more of a favor to himself. He hadn’t let her lay her head upon his chest, but when he’d turned her around he’d let their bodies touch in a more full and intimate fashion. It made her mind dizzy just trying to process it all.

“Everyone ok?” George called as he popped up into the bathroom. “No worse for the wear, I hope.” He frowned a bit. “I’m afraid that product worked exactly as designed. I found another few notes about it tucked away between the binding of the ledger,” he said with a bit of a flush entering his cheeks as he spoke. “Looks like Fred has some prankster products peppered throughout as well,” he said feeling just the slightest bit uneasy about having made the discovery. “Which I suppose is fine, we’ll just have to be a bit more cautious going forward.” With that sentiment in the air it was as if the awkwardness had vanished and George was once again grinning. “If you’re both alright, let’s get going then, shall we?”

Back in the workshop Hermione seated herself on a stool near the marble table while George and Severus investigated the contents of the box. She had noted that he’d found five more spray cans and was eyeing them over as they discussed what would be practical to test given Hermione’s current condition. The can she currently held in her hand was a bright sea foam green color and was dotted with what looked like little seashells. There was another can similar to the black fur can only this one was covered in hideous pink feathers and she shuddered to think what might be inside of it.

“Hermione,” George’s voice drew her attention.

He pulled from the box a little plastic compact. She stared at it quizzically for a moment before picking it up and turning it over in her hand. It was ordinary, looked like a small hand mirror or perhaps a makeup compact, circular in shape and rather plain. When she popped the latch and opened it up the contents baffled her. Five little pearls rested inside the compact, each in their own little nestled holder. “What on earth are these?” she asked.

George had once again taken up the ledger. “Jizz Juicers.”

“Oh George, that’s awful. Fred really had terrible sense for naming things.”

Severus grunted in agreement. 

“Each one has a specific flavor, to be ingested by the male to flavor his cum for his lover’s delight,” George was looking over the notes in the ledger. “Wait a minute, how many are there in that compact?”

“Five.”

“Bloody hell,” said George with a bit of a snort. “This list goes on forever. Everything from chocolate to pomegranate to vanilla and everything in-between.”

“How are we to know which ones are contained inside that compact?” It was Severus who asked the question. He was now standing beside George casting his eyes down the long list of flavors that could potentially be contained within the pearl-like orbs. He nodded. “At least nothing on this list looks questionable or objectionable.”

She hadn’t even thought about the fact that the flavors might be tainted with one of Fred’s more prankish notions. Despite having just been the victim of a novelty prank the thought was so quickly from her mind that she hadn’t considered that one of those little pearls might turn a man’s seed to taste like sour milk or rotten eggs. She quickly thanked Merlin that the list looked safe even though she had not yet seen it herself.

“Merlin, it just goes on and on, nearly a full page…double columns and everything! Look,” George pointed at the ledger. “Salted caramel, ripe pear, bubblegum, piña colada…it just keeps going.”

With the exception of the bubblegum, so far everything he had named sounded pleasant and even the bubblegum didn’t sound unbearable. “I suppose the only way to find out is to test it?” she asked. “I wonder if they’re all the same in one pack. George, are there more packs or just this compact?”

“Perhaps the flavor list is for future possibilities and the compact is a prototype. Are we certain that they have even been flavored to work?” Severus stood with his arms crossed over his chest, reading the notes that were scribbled all up and down the margins of the ledger. “Fred had atrocious handwriting,” he muttered, leaning closer to the ledger to get a better look.

After what felt like an eternity they had come to the conclusion that the compact had at the very least one flavor in it, but more likely a full five different flavors. George made a plan to mark them somehow if they turned out to be a favorable product so that there wouldn’t be confusion with marketing. The process seemed simple enough. Severus would ingest a pearl, wait a few moments and then Hermione would begin to pleasure him orally until he came and she would determine what the flavor was and how effective it was.

Plucking a pearl at random, Severus swallowed it and then waited. Time seemed to crawl by as they waited for the pearl to take effect. After nearly ten minutes George decided it was safe and gave them the nod to go ahead. Hermione was nervous. She’d blown him before but it had been in a much more intimate setting; a practice of sorts. And she had felt comfortable in her own element. Much like when they’d tested the D2 this would be very different from her bedroom at Spinner’s End. He would not give her a massage to ease her tension and she did not have the added benefit of her comfortable bed.

“Will you transfigure the stool a bit?” she asked Severus, nodding at it. “Maybe a little lower and wider,” she suggested. It wouldn’t be exactly like her bed, but it was a start. He silently complied and with a simple wave of his wrist he’d shifted the work stool into a low-rise wide planked bench. She was astonished at how simple he made wandless and wordless magic look; especially the transfiguration that was practically flawless.

Hermione settled onto her knees and tried to relax. Everything he had told her was playing in the back of her mind. Breathing through her nose, making sure to keep her lips pulled over her tongue, using what she knew about him to help bring about a quick release. That was going to be the most difficult part. When he’d been seated on her bed not only had she been comfortable enough in her surroundings to be so bold as to penetrate him with her finger but the positioning in which he’d sat had allowed for it. She wasn’t sure that the makeshift bench would give her quite the same opportunity.

Severus sat down on the bench, letting his robe hang open on either side of his body. She drew in a breath and chanted in her mind to be confident. Lowering her head forward slightly she placed both hands atop his thighs as she brought her lips to the tip of his cock. Sliding him into her mouth she began to swirl her tongue around his length, immediately feeling the response from him she had that night in the bedroom. He wasn’t trying to restrain himself, and for that she was grateful. It only took moments for his length to stiffen under her careful actions. She had forgotten the width of his shaft fully erect.

“Anything to be done to move it along?” George asked a bit sheepishly.

Hermione was about to release his cock from between her lips and snap at him but the firm weight of Severus’ hand on her head kept her in place, bobbing gently with his cock still in her mouth. “She’s coming along fine, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said. His voice was low, a hint of that heady husky sound penetrating his words when he spoke. This encouraged her and she slid one hand between his legs, cupping his balls as he had shown her that night. She was rewarded with a soft hiss that was followed by a groan when she squeezed them together in her hand, all the while sliding her mouth back and forth on his shaft.

There was a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach one that she all too quickly recognized as pleasure. Surely just giving the man a blowjob wasn’t turning her on? But it was and she felt heat filling her core as she continued to tighten the seal of her lips around the base of his shaft, taking him further in her mouth than she had during her lesson. This sensation was new; the fullness of him invading her mouth and pushing at the back of her throat. The sound that left his lips was a strangled cry, though if it had been painful she was sure that he would have yanked her head back. Perhaps there would be another way to make him easily achieve climax without having to figure out how to reach his arse.

Hermione felt his fingers threaded into her hair. He wasn’t pulling her head to him but his grip was firm. His hand moved with her head as she bobbed and licked and sucked his cock. She could feel his shaft pulsing in her mouth and knew that was a good sign. The hand that had been idly resting on his thigh began to stroke the soft hairs there, raking her nails ever so slightly across his skin. Severus groaned as she scratched him, her other hand rolling and squeezing his balls.

She heard him gasp as she felt his balls tighten. Hermione pulled back just slightly so that the head of his cock was no longer pressing at the back of her throat and not a moment too soon. The little squeeze on his tightened sac seemed to do the trick and he came hard, shuddering. Spurts of hot release filled her mouth, splashing her tongue and the back of her throat. She had picked a poor moment to inhale and began to choke slightly, doing her best not to let her choking spell dislodge him from her mouth.

George jumped to his feet in alarm, and Severus pushed her back as she sputtered. “Fuck, sorry Hermione, was it bad?” George was handing her a handkerchief and clapping her on the back.

She waved him away, still coughing a bit. Hermione managed to shake her head and after a moment she had settled down. “Sorry,” she said, feeling her face flush. “I just swallowed wrong…er breathed while— oh sod, nevermind, it wasn’t him or the flavor. That was my fault.” She confessed feeling foolish.

“Are you alright?” it was Severus’ rich voice, which still sounded a bit hoarse.

She nodded her head. “I’m fine, sorry. I didn’t hurt—”

“I am fine, Miss Granger,” he said pulling his robe around him. Hermione frowned, hoping that he wasn’t saying that merely for the sake of saying so. She didn’t think she’d hurt him in her choking spasm but she couldn’t be sure.

“Could you pick out a flavor?”

“What?” she asked George and then nodded her head. “Oh, yes. Yes it was distinct. Chocolate Fudge most definitely.” As she spoke she swiped her tongue around her lips, searching for any remnants of his flavored cum that might have been left lingering. Hermione took a moment getting to her feet and was surprised when Severus curled his finger at her. George was already frantically scribbling in the ledger over the note of the flavor being Chocolate Fudge.

“Was it a real Chocolate Fudge or sort of an artificial? You know how when you try to capture the flavor or essence of something it can— like bananas? Real bananas verses that Glam-Banger Banana Lip Balm?”

Hermione was standing in front of Severus her eyes looking into his when George’s question threw her asunder. It hadn’t been so much the question about whether the flavor was artificial but his apparent intimate knowledge of Glam-Banger’s Lip Balms that flabbergasted her. Turning her head with a quizzical look at George she pursed her lips. “Wasn’t that Ginny’s signature Lip Balm growing up?”

George’s face turned about as scarlet as his hair. “Erm…” he trailed off and then groaned with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Plus it was banana shaped…good for practicing—”

“Okay!” Hermione shouted, giggling a bit. “I get the picture.” An then she scrunched up her face. “Though I rather wish I didn’t. But no, George, it tasted like actual Chocolate Fudge, not plastic or artificial.” She turned her face back to Severus. With him still seated on the makeshift bench she was taller than him but he quickly righted that situation by standing. It brought their bodies close together and she trembled as he cupped her cheek. “What are you—”

Her words were halted as he brushed his lips against hers. Hermione all but melted as he kissed her. It was more than chaste, his tongue in hers, but not aggressive or lust driven. After a moment he broke their kiss and then walked over to George. “The flavor lingers,” he said. “Which is a marketability factor. I have yet to meet a wizard, regardless of his sexual orientation, that likes the flavor of his own after taste on his partner’s lips.”

Hermione stood there for a moment watching the two of them discussing marketability factors before she cleared her throat to interrupt the discussion. “I imagine that most couples won’t be using these in rapid-fire succession…even with the Lustipops getting a man to climax again…” she trailed off hoping her point was clear.

“Well of course not,” George chuckled. “That, however, doesn’t mean we can’t work on other things before we come back to the other four. We do have all night,” he said and looked at Severus. If the prospect of being used like a sperm factory bothered him or frightened him you would never know it from the blank expression on his face. “Though you probably ought to go give your mouth a rinse just so this next product doesn’t have a residual chocolate fudge taste.” He paused a moment, his head tilted to the side. “Though I suppose some might like chocolate fudge with their marshmallow.”

“Marshmallow?” she asked incredulously.

“Fluffer Nutters,” George said and pointed to the box on the table. “There’s a canister in there, it’s labeled.” Hermione nodded and pulled the canister from the box. It was shaped like an ordinary biscuit tin, metal with winding white stripes a bit like a barber pole that wrapped around it. The lid did in fact read “Fluffer Nutters” and she quirked her lips to the side, scanning the container for any indication as to what exactly awaited her inside. “Give me that, go give your mouth a rinse, there’s a sink in the far corner,” he pointed to the other end of the workshop. “And we’ll give these a go.”

Fluffer Nutters, as it turned out, were similar to the Hand-Control Panties that had been discovered in the box a few sessions ago. Though these were far more discretely designed and actually intended to have a good prank on the person who you would use them on. While the purple glove of the HC Panties would look awkward and out of place, no one would suspect an innocent snack cake out in public. The canister contained an applicator vial filled with a misty white liquid and a pair of joined white fluffy balls, for lack of better description. They reminded her very much of a softer and strangely white version of a rock cake, only without all the little pits and craters that rock cakes were so called for. 

Unlike the panties, Fluffer Nutters were designed to be a single use item. The serum was applied to the man’s balls, which through the mechanism of some sort of charm, transferred the sensations of whatever happened to the conjoined fluffy cake balls to his testicles. This made Hermione giddy with a guilty pleasure. She couldn’t say that she was overly pleased with the notion that the balls were flavored like marshmallow, she had not been overly fond of marshmallow as a child. She had not been overly fond of sweets, save for chocolate, in her adolescence but figured it had mostly to do with her restricted allowance of them on a count of the fact that both of her parents had been dentists.

Severus stood leaning against the table, the sides of his robe once again open. Hermione had taken the liberty of applying the serum liberally over his balls with her fingers before moving the stool, which was once again a stool, around to the opposite side of the table. She took a seat on it with his back now facing her. It was going to be fun indeed.

“Alright, Hermione, whenever you’re ready,” George sit, sitting once more at his ledger, quill at the ready. “And Severus, if you get to the point of release…pop another one of those pearls and see if we can’t get a two-fer out of this, yeah? Hermione there’s a cup of water there for a quick rinse so you don’t get marshmallow carryover.” Severus nodded his head at George’s request and then sat waiting. She too nodded her head and pondered for a moment how best to start.

Hermione held the Fluffer Nutter balls in her hands. Bringing them close to her mouth she paused a moment before making a very timid stroke of her tongue just in the center where they were joined. She noted that his shoulders tensed visibly but he made no indication otherwise that the tongue between his balls had affected him. Her lips puckered. “This is cloyingly sweet,” she said, realizing as she said it that she sounded just as he had. She tried not to giggle. But the product was saccharine, less like marshmallow and more like confectioner’s sugar.

She tried not to focus on how sickeningly sweet the taste of it was but more on the reactions that she might elicit from Severus by toying with him. Pressing her tongue flat against the center joint of the Fluffer Nutters she deliberately rolled it so that as much of her tongue as possible could stroke over its surface. A shudder and a gasp of breath was her reward for such a brazen move and immediately she felt the heady surge of power. Teasing him was indeed fun and she’d made it a semi-personal on-again-off-again mission to see if she could make him crack in the workshop. After all he’d said it himself that he was just a man and prone to faltering when stimulation became too much. She intended to over stimulate him until he erupted like a volcano.

Hermione carefully gave the balls a squeeze, watching through hooded lids as he adjusted the way he was standing. She hoped it was because he was beginning to grow erect. She began to lick the Fluffer Nutters with short quick strokes of her tongue, almost like a child trying to catch all the melting bits of an ice cream cone on a summer’s day. Then she grew bold. Placing her open mouth of the top of the left ball she began to kiss the confectioner’s object in her hand, moving her lips and suckling at the sweet as she did. Her right hand had taken the squeezing the other ball while her mouth worked. This seemed to be a satisfying combination as she could now hear Severus’ labored breathing.

Pushing her luck she widened her lips and drew one ball completely into her mouth. She was careful as she suckled the ball, swirling her tongue around it while her other hand continued to stroke and caress the other one. Severus hissed and then he groaned when her tongue pressed down, her mouth squeezing a bit on the Fluffer Nutter. The groan was unlike anything she’d heard up to that point; carnal and unrestrained, even when they’d both been overcome she’d never heard him release in that vocal fashion before. She only wished that there wasn’t a table between them so that she could slide her finger down his spine and rest it between his cheeks with the delicious threat of penetrating him.

She was slow, her motion deliberate as she pulled the ball from her mouth. She paused only a moment and then blew a steady breath across the confection, watching every muscle in his body tighten as he moaned. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she snickered quietly. To keep herself from bursting into giggles at just how it was affecting him, she repeated her ministrations with the other side of the conjoined balls; suckling it into her mouth, whirling her tongue over and over its surface. And then she was struck with a daring notion.

Her hands cupped the confectionary balls gently as she brought them to her lips. Feathering kisses along the tops of their surface she drew back her lips and squeezed them slightly until she’d engulfed both balls into the cavern of her mouth at once.

“Merlin,” Severus hissed. She noticed for the first time that his hand was wrenched behind him, gripping the edge of the marble testing table. His knuckles were white and she could see his robe starting to slide from his shoulders. Hermione was delicate as she rolled her tongue over the balls in her mouth, careful not to let them brush against her teeth. Whirling her tongue over and over was resulting in him moaning a bit more forcefully than before and when she slowly pulled them from her mouth, he was grunting, his other hand fumbling on the table for the compact of flavor pearls.

Hermione continued to lick at the Fluffer Nutters until she heard his breath catch harshly, and she knew he was but a moment away from reaching a climax. With her hand gingerly rolling what was left of the quickly dissolving confection, she rinsed her mouth and moved with haste around to the front of the table. His face was seized with ecstasy and she was sore that she had remained behind him not witnessing the glorious look of rapture that had torn itself across his features.

She dropped to her knees, the pillow just beneath her and placed one bracing hand on his hips. Her lips met the tip of his cock and she sucked him in. He cried out; a pure, unadulterated guttural sound that sent her reeling as he came in her mouth. It was not as much as it had been the first time, or perhaps she was just positioned better and not inhaling, but Hermione did not choke as his seed spurted forth between her lips, over her tongue, and down her throat. He was panting, tiny beads of sweat having formed on his forehead in his throes of passion. His cock twitched as his orgasm abated and immediately she pulled back, remembering what he had said about how he became sensitive like she did.

“Are you alright?” she asked. It felt strange for her to be the one asking. He waved at her dismissively as he caught his breath. She rolled her eyes and sighed. She turned to George, who was writing like a madman in the ledger. Was he trying to give a textual description of every blessed thing that had happened? She decided it was better if she didn’t know. “That one had a very distinctive taste of banana.”

“Banana?” George paused mid quill-stroke and looked up with perplexed eyes. “Bana— oh! You mean the Jizz Juicer. Right. Banana! Wait, good banana, real banana? Or Lip Balm Glam-Banger Banana?”

Hermione couldn’t help herself as she giggled. The idea of George stealing Ginny’s lip balm as he discovered his sexuality was too precious. “Banana banana, George. Like actual banana.”

“I don’t even remember seeing Banana on that list…” he flipped a page back in the ledger and traced his finger down the columns of flavors. “Oh nevermind, it’s here. So we’ve got Choc Fudge and Banana. Not terrible combinations.” He shrugged and scribbled something before flipping back to the page he’d used for the Fluffer Nutters. “Severus, how was it?”

Severus, who moments ago had been a quivering mass of man in the throes of ecstasy was upright, rigid, and had his robe drawn closed once more. “Suffice it to say, Mr. Weasley, it mimics the act with remarkable accuracy.” His tone was level, all hints of the pleasure he’d received from the toy vanished from his voice. “It will be easily marketable, and as a one-time use you stand to make a fortune with this product alone.”

“Brilliant,” he said and then looked back at Hermione. “You said it was too sweet?”

“Yes, well, not I don’t know…I guess so?” she shrugged her shoulders. “I might be biased, I did grow up with dentists for parents so I didn’t really have much of a sweet tooth growing up. I’ve also never been partial to confectioner’s sugar and that’s what it tasted like, confectioner’s sugar, which I suppose is alright since isn’t that what marshmallow is made of? Or perhaps I’m wrong, I’ve never quite closely examined how one does make marshmallow.”

George stared at her. “Right.” He said and then made a small note in the ledger. He flipped a few more pages. “You think you can get one more in before we have a dinner break or are you spent?” he asked Severus.

Hermione was all ears waiting to hear his response. How any man could have the stamina to go a third consecutive time in such a narrow window was beyond her fathomable mind. Even when they’d retested the remainder of the House Condoms there had been pauses while Severus discussed brewing things with George and all three of them discussed marketability. She’d even managed to rearrange some of the clutter up in George’s flat between fuck-sessions. So she was shocked when he gave a small nod. Wizards had stamina but he was nineteen years her senior. Then something she read in the tome he’d given her struck her mind; there was still so much she had to learn about sex and magic. It was possible that he was just beginning to enter his sexual peak as most wizards did not start until their mid or late 40’s.

Pushing that thought aside she found herself peering into the box and frowned. “George…” she reached in and pulled out a single delicate length of red silk. “Is this?” she let it slip over her fingers.

“Holy hell that’s where it was!” he cried with excitement. The missing red scarf from the sexy silks was now draped over her hand. “How did you get in here?” he asked, plucking the thing from her hand as if it were a prized pet. “We’ll have to— do you remember what this one was meant to do?” he asked and started eagerly thumbing through the pages of the ledger.

Hermione shook her head trying to think back to the picture of the buxom blonde that had winked at her from the bottom of a page near the back of the book. “I think it was wrapped around her ankles or her feet.”

“Great memory,” he said as he gazed at the lewd sketch of the woman who was still winking up at them from the bottom of the page. “Activated much like the others, I guess, and I don’t see anything on here about it needing release,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Though I’ve dismantled the four-poster.” He paused a moment. “My bed up in the flat is a four-poster,” he suggested a bit nervously.

“It is just as easy to reassemble the makeshift one here, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, already working on gathering the PVC pipes they had used last time. Hermione noted the slightly crestfallen expression on George’s face and she had to pretend to cough to keep from snickering. It had been obvious on more than one occasion that George was starting to fancy Severus, even if it was just for his massive cock and impressive way of using it, though she could hardly blame him. In a matter of moments the bed had been reassembled, the marble table transfigured into a softer base.

Hermione waited for Severus to remove his robe and climb onto it before she tugged the ends of the crimson silk. It flew from her fingers at once and split into three long streaming sections, flying right toward where he was lying on the bed. The longer length strapped itself across his torso, effectively binding him down to the makeshift mattress while the other length began an intricately woven pattern that held his legs together from the middle of his calves down to his feet. The third length looped itself around the tops of the four poster and knotted itself into the ornate pattern around his ankles. She watched as it dragged his legs up off the bed until they were suspended over him, exposing his arse to her while leaving his upper back and shoulders restrained down to the bed.

“Oh my…” she licked her lips. Though with the way the silk bound him she could not part his legs, it forced his cheeks together making them look plump and full. “Oh goodness what on earth could be the purpose for this,” she said trying to imagine getting astride him from such a position and how ridiculous it would be to do so let alone maintain that position.

George was gawking. “I think…” his voice squeaked as he spoke. He cleared his throat. “It’s a paddling position, Hermione.”

She couldn’t see Severus’ face and for that she was grateful. Paddling had only been mentioned once in passing, when George had initially tried to run down a litany of products he knew he had in store for them. And he hadn’t even been able to properly explain them at the time. She had just assumed they were meant to be used on her, and while she and Ron— nor she and anyone else for that matter— had never dabbled into anything quite so kinky, it had never occurred to her that they could in fact be used on Severus. There was nothing to say that the art of being paddled or being whipped or cropped, as she had heard the term tittered about in the Gryffindor Common room from time to time before she would be forced to confiscate the latest copy of Playwitch, was solely to be practiced upon witches.

At the time she hadn’t even been sure the idea was appealing to her; Hermione had never been exposed to pain as pleasure or the eroticisms of how fantasy and bondage play could drive one’s arousal to a feverish state. But the more she thought on it in that moment the more curious she became. At the very least she hoped there would be another opportunity for her to be paddled so she could see if it was something that tickled her fancy. Then she blushed horribly. Was she really standing there contemplating whether such a thing would turn her on? She was learning quite a great deal about herself and her sexuality through this job so what was to stop her from contemplating such things?

“Blast,” she heard George muttering.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I can’t find the one set of printed paddles that I had set aside, I figured we could test those too along with these.” In his hand he held a rolled over satchel not unlike a jewelry roll only much longer. With a shake of his arm it unraveled to reveal seven different instruments which looked terribly taboo to Hermione. Paddles and whips and crops of sorts; it was dizzying just taking them all in. “A week of bondage,” he said with a shrug. “They’ve each got a weekday name of sorts and they’re each meant to have a bit of a magical effect.” He moved over to hand the roll of paddles to Hermione. “We start with Monday and work our way through?”

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that spread across her lips. “Sounds alright with me,” she said and then turned back to glance at Severus. She was forced to step around to the side. “What do you think?”

“Get on with it, Miss Granger.” He said and then sighed, shifting a bit. “Paddle me.”


	12. Lessons of Another Variety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues with Hermione's menstruation and a further exploration with whips and things of the like including potentially some spanking, so if those aren't your scene, my fair warning to you. Feedback is always appreciated!

Hermione had never played with paddles. Or whips. Or crops. Or any other sort of bondage instrument. The feeling of one in her hand was strange. Her fingers curled around the slender handle; it was a thin plastic. She’d started with the one called Spades of Sunday even though George had suggested they work in order through the days of the week. It was a crop, flexible and malleable, with a spade-shaped head made of some sort of leather. She ran her fingers over the smooth panel of the spade. Closing her eyes she tried to imagine what it might feel like if she had been the one bound up with her arse exposed waiting for him to spank her with the crop. A shiver shot up her spine. Was such a notion turning her on?  
She dismissed the thought from her mind. Hermione licked her lips, thankful that neither Severus nor George had seen the lewd gesture as she stood with the handle of the crop rolling idly between her fingers. Logically it seemed like a simple task. George had read the description of Spades of Sunday and its enchantment seemed to be in the smooth black leather of the spade-shaped head. Upon contact the leather was meant to dig into the skin with a “delicious sting.” She wasn’t sure that those two words belonged together in a sentence but had not objected upon hearing it. Now all she needed to do was muster up the courage to actually swat Severus across the arse with the thing.

It was an impossible predicament. A part of her feared she might hurt him, though she supposed to a degree that was the point. Another part of her felt silly. How absurd was it to be standing there completely dressed while he remained bound and naked with his arse suspended for her to paddle. Seconds ticked away and they felt like hours as she chewed nervously at her bottom lip. Gripping firmly onto the handle, Hermione flicked her wrist forward and swatted the spade-shaped head of the crop against Severus’ left arse cheek. She gasped at the sound the crop made, but more so at what happened as the leathery head connected with his flesh.

Little tendrils sprang out from the face of the spade, almost like the thorny curls of a rose bush and splayed across his backside causing him to hiss. She watched them recoil into the smooth surface of the crop. “Merlin,” she gasped, her voice a breathy whisper. A dozen or so little spade shaped sting-marks were now sprinkled across his cheek all around where she’d slapped him with the crop. They were red for a moment, darkly so against his pale flesh, but already had begun to fade and in another moment they were gone from her sight.

Hermione tried her hand again, flicking her wrist a bit more firmly this time, watching again in horrified amazement as the tendrils of thorny spades shot out across his arse, leaving the same pattern in his flesh but for a few moments. She hesitated, wondering if a third strike of the crop would be considered pushing her luck, after all she’d seen what the particular toy was meant to do. She glanced over at George, who was hastily scribbling in the ledger. She dared not move herself around the side of the bed to peek at Severus, though if the louder hiss he’d released upon her second smacking was any indication, the little spades were growing more intense, if not more painful.

Chewing her bottom lip once more in uncertain anticipation, she cleared her throat to draw George’s attention. “Should I…er…again?” she asked. She watched as he nodded, rolling his hand at her in a gesture that clearly meant he wished her to continue. Hermione blushed, once again grateful that Severus could see none of this. She smacked him with the crop again. Two or three times more in quick succession, watching as the spade-shaped red marks lingered a little longer with each strike. It was fascinating the way his muscles tensed.

“How does it feel?”

“Well I mean it doesn’t slip out of my hand when I strike him,” she said, turning the handle about in her palm.

“Not you, Hermione.”

“Oh, sorry.” She blushed furiously then and waited for the sensation in her cheeks to quell before stepping around to the side of the makeshift bed to steal a glance at Severus. She wasn’t sure why it was suddenly so taboo to see him, she’d seen him naked, exposed, erect, flaccid and had fucked the man six ways to Sunday. There was something about him being trussed as he was by the red Sexy Silk, his arse exposed and his body essentially vulnerable. It surprised her to see that he was hard and a gush of warmth flooded between her legs as she realized that he had grown erect from the smacking of the crop.

“Severus?” George asked.

“It has a sting to it,” he said, his voice hoarse and gravely.

Hermione squeezed her thighs together. That sound; that broken unadulterated lust that echoed in his voice was exquisite and it sent bursts of pleasure straight to her core. She did not seek out his eyes, too afraid that what she might see there would have her all but jumping on him, regardless of how difficult it would be to do so in his current position.

“Are you alright to keep going?” George asked, trying to keep his own tone level as he stood up and examined the last of the fading spade-marks on Severus’ left butt cheek. He had closed his eyes and nodded at George. “I’m going to get that pearl pack,” he added. “Severus, when you get close, or if you get close, pop a third one, I want to try to accomplish as much as I can here,” he said and then retrieved the remaining three pearls. The only response from Severus was another nod of his head.

Hermione could not imagine trying to twist her head around to the right angle to catch his cum in the fashion that he was suspended, but she would do her best. She handed the Spades of Sunday back to George. “Which one should I do next?” she asked.

He shrugged. “You’ve gone out of order, not that it matters. Whichever one you like,” he said. It was not lost on her that he scooted the stool and work table a bit closer to the makeshift bed, angling himself slightly more to see Severus’ side than his arse.

“Right.” Hermione examined the remaining six toys in the roll of whips. “You know you really ought to call these a Week of Whips,” she suggested.

“Too right,” said George, jotting her suggestion down in the ledger. “Which one are you doing next?”

Hermione had selected a long slender whip from the fifth sleeve in the roll. It was not a crop like the first one. The handle on this particular toy was far thicker, though still plastic. It was longer as well. She closed her fingers around it and noted that a good three inches of handle was still visible. Protruding from the handle were long swishy strips of what appeared to be leather; red on one side and black on the other. The black side had little perforations that dotted up into the material but were somehow not visible on the red side. She looked at George, waiting to see what the ledger had to say in regards to the fancy toy she now gripped in her palm.

“Fifth slot? Um, that’s…uh...ah, here it is. That’s Friday’s Fantasy Flogger.” He said tapping the page of the ledger several times. “Says here…Friday’s Fantasy Flogger will leave your lover begging for release…each length of the whip is enchanted with a stimulating aphrodisiac that will drive your partner mad.” He tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes to read the remainder of the notes. “The— bollocks, Fred,” he muttered twisting the ledger up close to his face. “Oh. The whipped will have release restrained until the whipping partner gives a final flick and holds in the button on the bottom of the— Hermione is there a button on the bottom of the handle?”

She turned the whip over in her hands. “Yes,” she nodded and then looked at Severus. He was still hard at attention and she could only imagine what would happen once he was filled with the lusty aphrodisiac. She waited for George to give her some sort of signal and then she bit her lower lip. “Are you ready, Severus?” she asked.

He did not open his eyes to look at her. But she noted the way his chest rose and fell; labored as if it took every ounce of strength he had to keep from writhing about there on the makeshift bed. She noted the subtle nod of his head and took her place at the foot of the bed, the flogging whip in hand. It had a great deal of leather tendrils and she worried how they might feel all at once if she were too harsh so her first pass with the whip was far gentler than she’d meant it to be. She thwapped the whip again, overcompensating for her first wimpy strike and landed a great mass of the leather strands against the left side of his ass. Severus cried out and her knees quaked. It was not a strangled cry, it was not muted. Pure and reckless with need; she could see his body beginning to twitch. There were no little red marks, just a splotch of pink across his cheek where most of the flogger’s tails had landed.

Again she flipped her wrist inward and smacked him with the tails, earning another elicit moan from the lips of Severus. His breathing was more than audible now, he was panting. Hermione could feel her own breath heaving in her chest, her heart racing. While it brought her no specific pleasure to be wielding a whip, it elated her to know that she had brought about such sounds from him. Giddy and dizzy with this feeling of heady pleasure she struck him again and a fourth time, each blow with the tails causing him to cry out, louder and more feral than before.

“Merlin,” she heard him plead upon the fifth strike of the tails. She was finding a rhythm, her wrist flicked downward and inward with the weight of the tails coming diagonally across the jointed flesh at the back of his left thigh and over his arse cheek. She paused a moment listening to his panting before striking him a sixth time. “Enough…” he growled, his voice cracking as his legs jerked and his body tensed. Hermione shifted just slightly and peered her head around to look at him. His body was glistening, his chest rising and falling with need, beads of sweat running down the sides of his face. His knuckles were alabaster, gripping the mattress so tightly that it threatened to come apart in his grasp.

Hermione drew the flogger back and let it land hard against his ass once more. “Enough!” he roared, his legs tensing. She could see the head of his cock weeping and she saw George watching with slightly unfocused eyes. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, only that it was pushing him to the brink in that moment.

Flipping the flogger across him again she bit her lower lip to keep from moaning herself upon hearing the noise he made. “Take the—”

“I’ve already taken it,” he ground out, eyes screwed shut tight. Hermione had not been watching his hands or mouth quite so closely but her eyes darted to the compact and indeed only two pearls remained. She gripped the flogger firmly in hand and pressed the button on the handle, whipping him one final time. The sound that tore through his chest was that of a beast satiating its carnal lust in the wild. She was so taken aback by the sound that she forgot she was meant to be tasting his cum. Even in her current state she had always been quick on her feet and brought her hand over his tip, catching spurts of his release as his body shuddered his climax.

She watched him writhe and twist about, jerking his legs this way and that as he groaned and moaned, riding out the waves of his orgasm. She couldn’t take her eyes off him until his body had all but collapsed, his legs still strung up by the red silk. His cum was thick and sticky on her hand, but she brought it to her lips and licked a bit from her fingers. It was surprisingly tart, a blueberry of sorts, not salty but far tarter than what one would expect from such a flavor.

“Unbind…me…” Severus panted.

“Oh gracious!” Hermione cried. She hastily muttered a spell to clean her hand and then quickly undid the silk around his ankles. Severus’ legs fell down to the bed and he lied there panting for several moments. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling heavily. His erection was gone and his legs were freed from the silk. She felt her face filled with red and turned her back to him. “Do you want your robe?”

“I can summon my own robe, Miss Granger.” He said. His voice was still breathy but already she could hear the return of his rigid frosty exterior.

“Did you— what was the flavor— and Severus, did that— oh Merlin’s balls that was intense,” he said, his own face a healthy glowing red.

“Blueberry, I think,” she muttered. “But very tart.”

Severus had appeared beside her, donned in his robe, the only traces of the encounter remaining on his person were now the slight dampness in his hair from where he had been perspiring. “Suffice it to say, Mr. Weasley, the product works exactly as the description intends.”

George nodded hastily. He was writing in a flurry of red ink and frantic swooping gestures that were moving so fast the paper in the ledger was likely to start a conflagration at any moment. When he jotted the last thing into the ledger he looked up. “That’s a good place to break, I think. I’ll pop up to the flat and order us dinner, you two take a minute to put yourselves together and I’ll see you both up there.” He was off the stool and halfway out the door to the workshop before he’d finished talking. She very much doubted that he was racing off to order dinner, but rather order himself a solo dessert.

Hermione turned to look at Severus, her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you—”

“It is more than apparent that you have never used a whip before, Miss Granger, or you would have alternated sides,” he said. His voice was stern but it was difficult to tell if he was angry or simply being himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Stop your prattling.” He said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “One can hardly fault you for your woeful inexperience.” Hermione felt her cheeks warm this time with indignation. But before she could huff out her protestation, he had moved over to the roll of whips that remained. He shook his head. “I’ll never survive these if you don’t learn how to use them correctly,” he muttered. She wasn’t sure that the comment was meant to be heard by her or not, but she did hear his words.

“Then teach me.”

~*~

George did not order dinner for them. Hermione was sure that he didn’t even get to relieve himself since Molly Weasley had been waiting in his flat when he’d raced up to it. The quick inter-office memo, which he’d no doubt pinched from Percy, had dismissed them for the evening when it flew into the workshop just a few moments after his departure. The scribbles quickly explained that there was some emergency at The Burrow and he was racing off to deal with it. Hermione was grateful that he’d not brought Molly down to the workshop to dismiss them in person. 

That was how she had found herself standing in only her blouse and bra in her bedroom at Spinner’s End facing the scroll-top desk that was situated against the wall. When she’d uttered her words, albeit forcefully, in the workshop that he teach her, she’d had no idea that he would offer to do so the moment they had arrived home. The offer had caused her great consternation. Paddles and whips had never drawn her interest. She’d never given them much thought until they’d been brought up during testing. To say that her sex life with Ronald Weasley when they’d been together had been vanilla would have been labeling it with kindness. Outside of Ron there hadn’t been much aside from kissing and heavy petting.

Bondage, which was what she was mentally grouping whips and things of the like as for a lack of understanding, terrified her. It also thrilled her. She couldn’t dismiss the thoughts she’d had in the workshop about how such things might turn her on. But she wondered if it was the notion of being paddled and whipped that excited her or merely the fact that he was going to be the one delivering the blows? That was one conundrum among many others in her mind.

Hermione was still nervous about the fact that she was menstruating. Reading through the tome had given her knowledge of a charm that replaced needing a tampon but still she worried. Expressing as much to Severus had resulted in a simple shrug and an explanation that it made no difference to him. This did little to quell her and she furthered her concern about making a mess to which he said blood could be washed away from everywhere it stained except when it set in the hands. When the deeper implication of his words had sunk in she’d quietly agreed to strip from the waist down and wait in her bedroom for him.

“Should I stand a bit more forward, like toward the desk? Or perhaps the bed would be a better idea? I mean, we don’t actually have to do this tonight, I know that session in the workshop was long and if you’d rather—”

“Miss Granger!” his voice was sharp and far louder than she could ever remember hearing him be. “Do you wish me to teach you or not?”

Hermione blushed. After a moment she looked over her shoulder and nodded at him. “Yes, Severus.” She turned her head forward and closed her eyes.

“Then please, for both our sakes, shut up.” He was standing behind her but she could tell that he had moved toward her. His voice was much closer to her ear. “You need to learn how to handle a whip. You need to feel the difference between the different styles and how much force is needed to make each one work its purpose. If you feel it you’ll have a better idea of how to replicate it.” Her legs quivered over the prospect of feeling each whip’s purpose against her naked backside at his hand. His voice disrupted the sinfully delicious thoughts that were already threading through her mind. “There are five basic types of instruments in this field.”

“Only five?” she asked, once again craning her head over her shoulder to look at him. He narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly turned around again.

“Whatever Mr. Weasley may have spread out in that workshop are merely derivatives or modification to these basic five.” Severus stepped around to the front of the scroll top and laid down a small assortment of instruments before her. They were made of shiny black plastic as if they were brand new out of a package and had never been used. “The paddle, the flogger, the basic whip, and the crop.”

“That’s only four.” Hermione frowned, eyes roaming over each of them as she counted again and again. Already the flogger looked nearly identical to the one she’d used in the workshop except for the coloring. The crop too, save for its tip was not spade shaped. The paddle was easy enough to recognize, she’d seen them before even if she had never used one, and the whip indeed did look very basic; one long, fine tip trailing from its handle base. “Severus, that’s only—”

A loud crack split the room and Hermione shrieked. His hand landed hard on her backside. Not expecting the blow, Hermione pitched forward into the desk and the other four toys spilled onto the floor. There was an immediate stinging in her right arse cheek where his hand had made contact and she was certain that her skin was now sporting a pink glow.

“Five,” he said.

Hermione spun around, her eyes shocked. “But all you did was spank me!”

Severus chuckled, a smirk sliding onto his lips. “There are those who prefer the touch of a human hand, Miss Granger. It can be very erotic.” He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her waist before letting his hand trail down over her arse. She winced, which earned her a cluck of disproval. “That did not hurt as much as you are making it out to,” he admonished, soothing his fingers and palm over her flesh in a tender circular motion. Without warning he gave her cheek another firm slap.

“Severus!” she jumped forward, practically knocking them both over, but he stood his ground and kept them both upright.

“You would do well to keep quiet and learn, Miss Granger.” His hand slid lower and he smacked the under-swell of her ass, causing her to jump up slightly. “The hand can be most versatile…as it is the only one that you can control with exacting precision,” he punctuated his remark with a firm slap on her opposite cheek. “Varying how firmly you land the blow every time.” Another slap, this time further over but with a softer landing. “And precise calculation of the location of delivery.”

Hermione could feel her eyes prickling just slightly. Even as a child she had never been spanked. She refused to cry; despite the shock of how sudden and forward he was with his hands the sting wasn’t crippling. Whether her skin felt too sensitive because it was a brand new sensation or because her hormones were over stimulated, she didn’t know but it was enough to make her eyes water. His voice forced her to look up at him, trying to blink back the tears as she did.

“You are making quite the fuss over a simple spanking.”

She sniffled, and again blinked back her tears. “I’m sorry, I just—”

Severus released both arms from where they had circled around her and stepped back from her. “You are not ready for this.” He had not even made a step toward the door when she grabbed hold of his arms.

“Please I’m—”

His finger pressed firmly against her lips. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear you are sorry, Miss Granger.” He paused but held her gaze with his own, not blinking or looking away until she nodded her head. Then he pulled his finger back from her mouth. “Sit down.”

Hermione moved quickly to the edge of her bed and sat down. Already the stinging from his spanking had vanished and she wished that she hadn’t made quite such a ruckus. Crossing her legs she looked up at him expectantly, for once too afraid to speak.

Severus picked up the four toys that had fallen from the desk. He placed them beside her on the mattress before turning to lean against the scroll top. Pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed. “I am going to regret this…” his voice trailed off and he moved his hand away from his face. “Speak your mind, Miss Granger.”

His words gave her great pause. Her mind was constantly running with every possible and impossible scenario that could be fathomed, but in that moment having permission to express all of it somehow struck her dumb. It felt like an eternity passed between them and she was certain if she remained silent any longer he would leave her room. “I feel out of sorts,” she began cautiously. When he said nothing she continued. “I don’t know how a woman can get to be my age and not know all the things I read in that book. I understand I had some slight disadvantage given that both my parents were muggles, but how can I be expected to know these things? Was I supposed to wait until later in life had this job not come along and just one day spontaneously combust because I didn’t know?” The soft chuckling sound that filled the room caused her eyes to grow wide. “This isn’t funny!”

“I sincerely doubt that you would have just woken up one morning circa 40 and spontaneously combusted, Miss Granger.”

Hermione grunted, a great harrumph of a sigh that traveled through her body as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I simply do not understand how a witch is expected to know all of these things about her own body if no one has ever explained them to her. As if the whole monthly affair wasn’t bad enough now I have to worry about a magical build-up, magical overload, not to mention the fact that my period has effectively put a stop to working this week—”

“Periods stop sentences, Miss Granger, not our working this week. You are experiencing your menses not punctuation,” he said. She shot him a withering glare but before she could continue he drew up his hand to silence her. “Aside from your very childish notion that Hogwarts should have taught you everything and the overwhelming curse of hormones that have you perched on edge, I do not see the dilemma. You’ve been given a tome with more than sufficient information and should you deem it necessary there are ways to do further research.”

She was about to complain but thought better of it. After a moment she sighed. “I suppose you are right, it’s just the principle of the thing. If this…” she trailed off, making a noncommittal gesture with her hands between the two of them. “If I hadn’t been working this way with you…how would I have come across such knowledge?” Expecting another rebuke from him she was surprised when he answered her in earnest.

“You were besotted with that simpering simpleton Ronald Weasley, were you not?” There was no way for her to protest the remark without sparking a debate about the whole abominable business of a wasted relationship with Ron. She nodded her head, albeit glumly. “Then certainly Molly Weasley would have taken on the explanation of such things.”

Hermione thought for several long moments before posing her next question. “And if Molly Weasley were not a factor?”

Severus sighed. “You are far too tangled up in hypothetical scenarios. You are no longer with Ronald Weasley. You did take this position and now you have a book.” His tone indicated to her that he was bordering on exasperation, but she still felt frustrated and conveyed as much through her pointed glare. “Come now, Miss Granger, you really are being ridiculous.”

Silence. After a moment she held his gaze. “Are you ever going to stop calling me Miss Granger?” she asked.

Again silence. There was the subtlest of shrugs that graced his shoulders and if she hadn’t been staring at him intently she would have missed the gesture. “It does fluster you a fair bit and every time you make mention of it flustering you, I reset a mental counter,” he said with a smirk.

Hermione blustered, her cheeks coloring again. “You’re a prat,” she said and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, completely disbelieving that she had uttered such a thing aloud. If her cheeks hadn’t been red a moment ago they were certainly red with embarrassment now. Even though she had a great many thoughts about him, such disrespectful ones were never allowed to surface to even the forefront of her mind, let alone her mouth.

Severus was chuckling once more. “What an insult,” he snorted. “Surely the harshest I’ve ever heard uttered in all my years spent teaching.”

“Oh!” she huffed. Instinctively she reached back and her hands clenched into her pillow. Launching it at him she was shocked that he caught it without flinching. She bit her lower lip and refused to look up and meet his gaze until his words forced her to do so.

“Keep that up and I shall paddle you with this very pillow.”

“If I weren’t on my p— experiencing my menses, I might actually enjoy it.” she stated and then lowered her head, feeling her cheeks warm once more. Severus’ eyebrow arched high upon his forehead and she groaned. “Just— I think it’s safe to say that this lesson is over for the evening,” she whined and then collapsed backward onto her mattress a bit over dramatically.

She had expected him to leave without a word. Or perhaps to have a parting remark but his lack of departure was severely unnerving. Whether he was staying to screw with her head or because he actually had some sort of message he wished to convey, she couldn’t fathom. There was something dreadfully enigmatic about him in that moment and she spun onto her side to face him. He was standing as he had been, leaning casually back against her desk, arms now folded in front of him, holding the pillow to his body. Her eyes traced his figure, unable to discern what he was thinking in that moment.

Hermione found that in those moments of silence he was an attractive man to simply look at. While she’d found herself increasingly more drawn to him during their work for George’s product testing, and when moments like the shower had occurred at his home, it wasn’t until that moment that it dawned on her that Severus Snape was a handsome man, though not traditionally, to simply stare at regardless of what state he was in. This unnerved her all the more. She curled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, realizing then that she was still naked from the waist down.

How long he stood there just gazing at her while she gazed at him from her curled up ball on the bed she couldn’t say. Hermione had never been good at metering time without a time piece. It felt like ages, though whether that was from the silence or the slight awkwardness she hadn’t the slightest idea. She longed to say something, anything to break the deafening sound of nothingness that pervaded the room but could not think of a single intelligent thing to say, nor a question to ask. So she remained curled on her side, gazing up at him.

When Severus stepped toward the bed and eventually sat down upon its corner she was shocked. She pulled herself upright, keeping her knees up against her chest, and sat on the opposite corner of the mattress. Resting her chin atop her knees, Hermione stared at him. Again for a very long time there were no words; her mind racing about with all the things that she was feeling and questions she longed to ask him. The question that finally left her lips were certain to end whatever moment they were sharing. “Do you like being paddled?”

“Do you?”

His question surprised her, but the more she thought about it the more she supposed it was the most basic defense tactic in all of conversationdom; dodging a question by answering with one. If she countered with a third question she was certain to be reprimanded and perhaps he would leave. She found herself obsessed with the little head game he’d created; him lingering and her seeing how long she could keep him present in the room. Hermione bit her lower lip but then quickly stopped, noting his glare as she did so. She turned the question over in her mind once more before speaking.

“To be honest, I’m uncertain. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Your hand just now…” she trailed off, once more feeling her cheeks filling with color. It annoyed her that she blushed so easily. It annoyed her more that her inexperience made her feel shameful. Surely every witch her age had not been so tarty that they knew it all when it came to sexual deviation. She took a moment with her head bowed in her knees to let some of the color slide back out of her cheeks before continuing. “I’ve never been spanked or paddled. I’ve never been exposed to it. And I imagine that because I’ve never been exposed to it, I’ve never considered it desirable.” She paused for a moment, letting her eyes meet his. If her prattle annoyed him he wasn’t letting on. “I don’t suppose I’ll know if it is something I like until I’ve experienced it,” she gave a little shrug. “Though it’s hard to discern because everything feels hyper sensitive at the moment.”

“I see you’ve finished the book, as I had no doubt you would.” He said as a response to her last comment.

“Cover to cover,” she admitted sheepishly.

Severus rolled his eyes. Hermione tried not to let that bother her. It was merely his way of responding to her bookish and over-eager nature in regards to learning. If he hadn’t meant for her to read the book in its entirety he wouldn’t have given it to her. It had been very useful, albeit startling, and she felt she knew a great many more things about herself because of it. When a witch experienced the weight of her magical menses— which could be experienced earlier in life than was common due to prolonged or intense sexual stimulation or pregnancy— the sensational experience of the five senses were augmented not unlike the way pregnancy heightened the sense of smell. She felt pain more sharply but it also meant that she felt pleasure more keenly. She wriggled her toes against the coverlet of her bed and looked at him.

He was quiet; pensive as he rested on the corner of her bed, hands folded neatly in his lap. She tried not to stare, but it was impossible. She’d slowly begun to accept that she was attracted to him and that her attraction was beyond what simple things he did to heat up her body and arouse her physically. But she was cautious; handling Severus Snape was a bit like handling a wild Hippogriff— no sudden movements lest it fly away or claw your face off. So vocalizing her attraction to him in that moment was out of the question, but she couldn’t help herself so she settled on staring. She noted he was staring too, though his eyes were far from empty. He was calculating; thinking and analyzing, perhaps even more so than she was, but he would never say a word of it.

She was certain that she could have sat that way for hours; just drinking in his figure and the way the light in her bedroom made him seem less pale than she knew him to actually be. Hermione took a chance and broke the silence after another moment of studying the way he studied her. “You didn’t answer my question.” She had expected silence, or a rebuke, but the cheeky honesty unsettled her.

“I know.”

Every time she thought she was gaining ground with the way his mind worked, he unbalanced her. “Did you plan on just being rude or have you forgotten the question?”

Severus scoffed. But it was still several more moments before he spoke. “As an over-analytical and complex thinker you will appreciate this, but I am uncertain as to how to answer such a question in a manner that explains the entirety of my feeling on the matter.”

That was indeed a mouthful and Hermione was baffled by it, but grateful to hear it just the same. He was a man of few words; and although she was a woman of many, she found that in his few words he often spoke just as much if not more so than she did with her unending flow of speaking. This gave her pause as she thought about what exactly he was saying by saying as he had just said. She shook her head and then put it down into her arms, slowly unfurling her knees until her legs were stretched out straight before her. Hermione’s feet rested at the side of his thigh and with her big toe she prodded his leg.

She watched him look at her foot and then look at her, his expression never changing. This made her smile just a bit and for an instant she swore there was something akin to a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But like most expressions on the face of Severus Snape, it was gone before she could properly identify its existence, let alone interpret its meaning. Again she prodded his thigh, more incessantly than before, yelping with a gasp as he snatched up her foot with both hands, holding it tightly in his grip.

“You should not prod a sleeping snake, Miss Granger, lest it snap at you.”

For a moment she remained perfectly silent, her leg elevated from the bed, her foot held firmly in his hands. She was still naked from the waist down, her bare sex exposed, though she noted that his eyes did not leave hers. That unnerved her more than if he had taken a lecherous peak or stolen a sinful glance at her womanhood. When she tugged her foot back and was met with a firm resistance, Hermione scoffed. “You are hardly a sleeping snake, Severus.” Two could play his game, and although he was quick to catch her off guard and confound her into confusion, she could just as easily rise to a challenge.

Severus held her gaze hard, and held her foot firmly between two hands. She wiggled her toes but could do little else by way of movement. She didn’t dare close her eyes; half for fear that he might release hold of her and half for fear that if she did there was no way of anticipating what he would do next. She was shocked when he chose words as his weapon.

“You should learn to exercise more caution,” he said slowly. His words were deliberate, and she knew that each one was spoken with exacting precision and purposeful meaning. The fact that he was suggesting rather than commanding gave her a flush, albeit small, of courage to engage in this twisted game with him. Hermione leaned back ever so slightly, bracing both hands on the mattress on either side of her hips. She locked eyes with him and just as deliberately as he had spoken, bit her lower lip. She held her lip between her teeth for just a moment, pressing down into the plump petal with an exaggerated pressure, never once looking away from him.

“You aren’t going to bite me, Severus.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

His words caused her to shiver. The sensation pulsed through her body and she had to close her eyes, if for just a fraction of a second, to recover from such a notion. Him biting her; that was something that should have frightened her, or at the very least repulsed her. She’d never understood those ridiculous teen-tween muggle books about girls who fantasized about being bitten. The notion quite frankly did repulse her. At least it had until the words had left his mouth and suddenly her mind was flooded with images of his lips slinking across her skin, his teeth grazing into her flesh and her body exploding in a hot fiery inferno of liquid pleasure.

Hermione was literally jerked from her reverie as he pushed her foot from his hands. But before she could protest or regain her bearings, he’d hauled her to her feet in an unceremonious and clumsy fashion. “Don’t do that,” he said, holding her upright. He stood behind her and just to the side of her, both hands on her hips. “Your mind goes mental with images every time I say something and you run mad with it, over thinking it, analyzing it, fantasizing over it.” His lips were just at the back of her ear and she couldn’t help but tremble as he leaned into her.

“Your mind is an open book, I can practically see you picturing it,” he whispered. His voice was low, filled with intention and it sent tingling barbs of fire shooting down her spine. “Standing just as I have you now…” as he spoke he slid his hands slowly up her hips. Severus moved his hands to the front of her body, grasping at the fabric of her blouse. He tugged firmly, but slowly, and the bottom button popped away from the fabric. Another tug, again slow but hard, and the button above it was torn open. He continued popping the buttons of her blouse up her shirt until he’d pulled the garment apart and left her breasts exposed.

Hermione had closed her eyes, unable to think, barely able to breathe. She could feel his chest pressed upon her back as his lips lingered at her ear. His hands slithered up the front of her body and paused only when both were cupping her breasts; the thin fabric of her bra the only barrier between her bare flesh and his. His lips were wet, slow and sweeping, as they crept down her neck and the heat of his breath had her all but whimpering. She inhaled sharply as she felt the slick velvet of his tongue against her skin just at the side of her throat. There were no spoken words, only her body quivering against him and the panting of her breath in that moment.

The smack landed hard against her backside, the sting of his palm reverberating through her flesh. Hermione moaned; a wanton sound filled with lust and desire. She hadn’t even felt his hand leave her breast but before she could register his shift in position three more smacks, lighter but just as firm, landed on the swell of her right cheek. Each blow jolted her core. It was nothing like his hand had been when she’d leaned in front of her desk. This was hot; this was arousing; her body was responding and her mind was lost in a haze. She felt the exhale of his breath against her skin and she leaned back into him, groaning as he slapped his palm to her ass, this time noting the way his fingertips lingered on her flesh rubbing tiny circles in the wake of his hand.

Fingers slipped between her cheeks and slid down and under, between her legs. “Oh gods…” she panted. He pushed her thighs apart and without protest she found herself standing spread-eagled, her backside pushing out toward him as if her body craved more of the delicious sting of his hand. Her legs were trembling and she couldn’t fathom how she was remaining upright save for the firm arm, whose grip had slid from her breast, and was now wrapped tightly around her ribcage. A breathy strangled cry escaped her lips as his palm landed against her sex. It was a firm slap, calculated and intentional and it should have hurt. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that it did hurt, but it shook her through with a wave of pleasure so strong that she only noted the way his fingers lingered, silently pleading that he would penetrate her with his delicious digits.

Her flesh tingled when his palm landed hard against her other cheek. Hermione felt her face fill with heat, much like the rest of her. She was almost sobbing when he slapped her again, this time in a series of short but intense little taps higher up on the swell of her left cheek. But her sobs were not dominated by pain and hysterics as they had been when he’d first laid his hand to her backside. Now they were carnal and unrestrained; craving a sort of release from the blissful torture he had induced in her. Her mind was jumbled and without thinking, she’d brought one hand down between her legs, feeling the slickness that had gathered between her sex. She was dripping from the way he’d spanked her and her legs trembled like jelly. She dared not look at her hand, knowing it would be pink if not red entirely. She longed to pull away but at the same time she needed more.

When there was stillness and quiet and no more connections of his palm stinging her ass, Hermione bit her lower lip, sniffling just slightly not from the pain but because she was mortified at how readily her body had responded to him. How easily he had made something painful and revolting entice her body to a wanton frenzied state. His lips were once more at the back of her ear, though she noted in that moment— save for the arm around her ribs— that no other part of him touched her.

“You took that rather well, Miss Granger.” He let his lips brush the back of her earlobe ever so slightly and she shuddered. “Do you see why a simple answer to your question is not possible?”

She wasn’t sure how she managed to spin about quite so quickly given how firmly his arm was wrapped around her, but when she did both hands gripped hard at the fabric of his shirt, pulling their chests together. He didn’t flinch. Hermione gazed hard into his eyes, a swirling confusion of feelings overwhelming her. He didn’t push her back, he didn’t move his arm from around her back. They stared into each other’s eyes and the world could have exploded around them but neither looked away.

It was a different sting, she wasn’t even sure she could call it that, when the tendrils of the flogger graced her backside. She gasped, pitching forward but he remained upright and so did she. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around how he’d managed to get it into his hand, though after a moment the thought that he was beyond proficient in wandless and wordless magic slipped into her consciousness. His expression didn’t change as he flicked the flogger across her backside once more; a broad sweep covering both cheeks. She closed her eyes, unable to continue gazing into his for fear that she might lose what little control she still had and kiss him.

“The leather is cut differently, the texture is different, you can be more forceful and blunt with a flogger,” he said, his voice as it had been before he’d hauled her from the bed. His personas were a tornado, keeping up with them impossible. One minute he was sensual and sexual and toying with her, the next instructing her, and doting with guarded concern. She felt something inside of her mind literally snap in half and Hermione let her head fall forward against his chest. It surprised her when he did not force her head up, but instead brought the hand not holding the flogger over to stroke the back of her hair. “You will drive yourself mad if you continue to try and make sense of this,” he paused and leaned his lips down ever so slightly. “Of me.”

“You are cruel,” she whispered, not lifting her head from his chest, the words half muffled against his short.

Severus tugged her by the hair until he drew her face up from his chest. He searched her eyes. “You are hormonal,” he said as if they were swapping obvious statements. When she pursed her lips to speak, he pressed a single finger against them. “You asked me to teach you, you were in no state, so I put you in a state to learn.” He said simply.

Hermione noted that although he’d pulled her head up from his chest, he had not taken his hand from her hair. It wasn’t an intimate gesture, but he was still touching her. She closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly forward, trying to process his words. He wanted her to learn, and she had never failed as a student before. He’d torn open her shirt and clutched her from behind all for the sake of mentally unbalancing her so that he could spank her with his hand, and again with the flogger. Or that was what he was telling her and her heightened emotional state was too jumbled to apply logic otherwise.

She opened her eyes and stared at him. It hadn’t taken her long to give up trying to read what feelings were burbling inside of them. The black swirling depths of his eyes that in just the right light looked a deep brown; holding a world of mystery and confusion every time she held his gaze. “I—” but his finger pressed more firmly against her lips when she began to speak. Her body was trembling just the slightest bit and she shook her head slowly, freeing his hand from her hair. “Severus, I—”

“Do not ring that bell, Miss Granger.” Her perplexed look was enough to cause him to sigh, though he remained where he stood, finger on her lips, just inches from her body. “A bell that has not been rung is unheard. One can imagine what it sounds like, whether such a sound will be pleasant, or what sort of impact the sound might have, but it is nevertheless unheard.” He paused, searching her eyes for the briefest of moments before continuing. “Once you ring the bell, you can never un-ring it. It can never be unheard.”

Hermione felt her eyes fall closed. He was cautioning her, again in his strange fashion, and while the analogy was muddled, the intention was clear. She could feel the moment slipping out of her control. She took a step back from him, his finger falling naturally away from her mouth as he lowered his arm to his side. She stood there for several moments, the silence between them maddening and unending. If he had intended to leave her room, he would have. If he had intended to continue the lesson, he would have. His stillness was her indication that he was waiting for her to make the next move, even if his words of wisdom intended to guide her to make the move he wanted.

It was then she noticed her fingers; bloody as she had expected from when she had touched herself while he had spanked her. His gaze followed hers and she was shocked when he stepped forward, once more closing the distance between them. His hand gripped her wrist and pulled it upward. “You women are all the same when it comes to this,” he said. There was something strange in his voice. For a moment she wondered if she had fallen asleep on her bed and this was her mind’s horrid way of tormenting her. It had happened once before, when she’d daydreamed herself to sleep leaning against his patio door. But she hadn’t been tired, and he’d been with her since they’d returned to Spinner’s End.

She tried not to let the eminent flush of scarlet flood her cheeks that she could feel peaking in her neck come to her face. It wasn’t a taboo; at least it shouldn’t have been. She’d been dealing with her period for over a decade and even if she was only recently enlightened about a witch’s menses, it was not as if the basic concept was new to her. She had never found herself in a situation that required sexual involvement during her monthly cycle, and she supposed that unfamiliarity coupled with the general hysteria of disgust and distaste around the notion— brought on mostly by Ronald Weasley— had kept her from accepting it for what it was; a part of her body’s natural process.

Her thoughts must have been written on her face or she was thinking too loudly again for she noted that Severus was gazing at her, that mildly annoyed look that she had come to recognize on him having surfaced across his face. She bit her lower lip out of habit and gasped just slightly when he pinched her lip and pulled it back from her teeth. Hermione gazed at him, eyes burning with a confused defiance. Why it bothered him, she couldn’t say. Why it bothered her that it bothered him, she had even less of an idea. “What do you want?” she asked.

His eyes remained hard for a moment and then, much to her surprise, he chuckled. It was a dark, though rather evocative sound. She tried to categorize it among the other times she’d heard such a sound from him, but realized that he laughed so seldom that she had nothing to truly compare it to. Severus Snape standing fully clothed in her bedroom and chuckling while she stood mostly naked, disheveled, aroused and menstruating. It was enough to drive her bonkers. Her core still ached; the way he’d spanked her after emotionally unbalancing her still coursing through her. She was frenzied and wanted nothing more than for him to push her hard back onto her bed then and there and fuck her until her body melted beneath him. She knew such a thing would never happen.

When he spoke, she again found herself startled. He was not one for words, nor was he one for leading a conversation, but she supposed that he felt comfortable enough to do so because she was so out of sorts. “You are so frustrated with yourself,” he paused for a moment and then reached for her hand once more. “Between discovering your sexuality and your menses, and the fact that there is more to it than snogging and piss-poor fucking…” he trailed off, gazing at the blood stained on her fingers. It was slight; hints of pink and red just on the tops of her digits from where she had touched herself. He let her hand go and then turned, bending to retrieve the other toys from her bed. “Go,” he said.

“This is my room—”

“Go to the bathroom, Miss Granger.” He said. “You’ll be a wound up mess if we continue in here, and I intend to finish this lesson this evening lest my backside wear thin under your ministrations tomorrow evening at work.”

“I’m sorry…” she trailed off, letting her words die on her lips when she noted his stern gaze. “It’s just that— you— oh, nevermind!” she grumbled. Hermione turned toward her bedroom door but stopped cold when his hand landed on her shoulder.

“I— what, Miss Granger?” His fingers gripped her shoulder and tugged at her body until she gave in to his touch and turned back around to face him.

Standing face to face with him seemed to swallow her words in her throat and she found it difficult to speak her mind in that moment. He had undone her so thoroughly in such a short period of time that she felt lost. Hermione closed her eyes. “Can we take a break first? I need— well I don’t know what I need, but if you want me to learn then I just need to— I don’t know, clear my head, or lie down, or eat something.” When she opened her eyes she had expected him to be frowning, or at the very least glaring. His face was neutral; softened almost as he held her gaze and she felt her cheeks blush. She was losing her mind if she hadn’t already lost it.

“Go to the bathroom, Miss Granger.” He repeated. When her face fell, but before she could protest, he added. “Draw a bath, in the cabinet behind the mirror is a vial of herbs, sprinkle them over the bath water. When you’ve finished, call for me.” He said simply. Without another word, he swept past her, let himself out of her bedroom and disappeared.

The bath had been precisely what she had needed. The herbs had done her wonders. She had identified a few of them, the lavender being the easiest to pluck from the bunch, but it had calmed her a fair bit. She was convinced that he had fiddled with the plumbing as she hadn’t had to cast a stasis charm over the hot water at all. A small kindness, or perhaps a convenience, but either way it had made soaking a pleasant experience. She still wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to resume Spanking & Paddling 101, but she was determined to keep her composure. She’d even gone so far as to brew a mug of the herbal concoction he’d given her the first night back after she’d started her cycle. Hermione convinced herself that between the tea and the bath she was ready to take on the world.

“Severus,” she called, standing in a towel in the hallway. She waited a moment but heard nothing. Venturing the two steps down the hallway she tapped on his bedroom door.

“Tap away but I shan’t answer.” His voice came from behind her and she jumped, squeaking a bit as she spun around to face him. “Still on edge, I see.” He frowned.

“You just— I thought you were— oh bother,” she sighed.

“I was in the laboratory, if you must know.” He said. When she made no move to approach the bathroom he rolled his eyes. “Working on the depilatory for Mr. Weasley,” he added. “It needs six hours to simmer in a larger batch.”

Hermione nodded. She could feel her face flushing again. “I think I’m ready,” she said after a moment and walked toward the bathroom. The tub was drained and slowly drying but still smelled of the calming herbs and this eased her mind just slightly as he closed the door behind them, moving over to the sink basin. She watched as he carefully laid the three handles across the sink. Noticeably absent was the flogger, though she supposed since he’d worked it over her backside and briefly explained how to handle it, that he would not be repeating its use now that the lesson was resuming.

Her jaw all but dropped when she watched his fingers deftly working down the front of his shirt, button after button coming undone until he’d removed the garment and stood only in his trousers and belt. She quickly turned her head away not wanting him to see her shocked expression. Severus stepped toward her. “You seem to be best at ease when things are leveled to your advantage,” he said simply and then took hold of her towel. As she shimmied out of it, he draped it over the floor. “Stand here,” he said and then put his hand on her hip, turning her to face the sink slightly. It would be a tight squeeze if he were to stand behind her, but if it bothered him, he said nothing.

Hermione could feel her heart beginning to race and all he’d done was remove her shirt and expose her naked body. The hand on the small of her back made her jump but his palm lingered there and after a moment, she drew in several steadying breaths. “Are you going to—”

“Just relax, Miss Granger,” he said. “I know that’s an impossible command for your ever-whirling mind to comprehend, but do try for both our sakes.”

The tone had returned. She flushed, indignation fueling her cheeks rather than embarrassment. But he had a point. She had never been good at relaxing. All her life she’d been high-strung, though with what she’d encountered during her school days and the war she could hardly be blamed. Hermione closed her eyes trying to think about things that were relaxing. The way he’d massaged her shoulders the night he’d taught her how to give him a blow job; that had been relaxing. The way he’d stroked her and eased her cheeks apart the night he’d taken her anal virginity; that had been relaxing too. All of her most relaxing experiences had been caused by him.

“That’s better,” she heard his voice. It was even; no longer laced with annoyance or the cheeky biting wit she’d come to know quite well. “Bend forward a bit,” he said. “And grip onto the sink.” They were instructions as if their roles as professor and student had never changed. As if she hadn’t watched him die that night in the Shrieking Shack, as if she hadn’t been blacklisted from work, and found herself testing novelty sex toys for George Weasley. As if she weren’t currently living with him at Spinner’s End; she was once again his pupil. Hermione tried to imagine such a lesson taking place at Hogwarts and she all but burst into a fit of giggles.

She gasped as a heavy plank landed hard across her backside. She hadn’t been anticipating it and he must have noted how she had been holding back her laughter at the absurd thought of him paddling a student for instructional purposes. His delivery was remarkably well timed; the blow both thunderously hard but surprisingly sensual. “L-lower, I think.” Hermione turned her head to look at him, sheepish and meager. “The paddle I think it might be more effective— ooh!” she moaned as he paddled the leather against her arse. She noted that he had indeed shifted it lower, landing full against the middle of both cheeks. “Merlin,” she whimpered he placed a third blow, slightly lower than before, but just as firm.

“You feel the difference?” he asked, pausing a moment to switch arms. “With a paddle you want to hit firmly and evenly. There is no need to put your full weight into it, but it has to be more than a flick of your wrist to distribute the blow smoothly.” She felt him smack the paddle against her ass thrice more, each smack eliciting a moan from her. “Always across both…” his voice trailed off and she yelped when he thwacked the paddle against just the top of her left cheek. “Otherwise there is recoil on both your cheek and in my arm.”

Hermione sobbed in a gasp of air. She could feel her core pulsing. She could feel little gushes of arousal seeping down her legs. She tried not to think about the fact that she was dripping her arousal mixed with her menstrual blood down onto the bathroom floor, even if she was standing over a towel. She bent herself forward a bit more, both hands gripped firmly on the sink. “The hand…the flogger…the paddle…what’s— ah!” she cried.

It felt like a bee sting. A quick bite that was there and gone. “The whip.” He said casually.

“I don’t like that one,” she whimpered.

There was a pause. She whined when he lashed its single tail against her right cheek. “It is not designed for you to like it.” Severus held the whip in his hand and moved to stand beside her. “Stand up,” he commanded, and she did so a bit too quickly, knocking into him as she did. “It requires a swift cracking motion with the wrist, and will land a potent blow…” he nodded at her. “A single whip as such is not often used for nice games” he added. “But you will find the principle is the same for a cat-o-nine, or a multi-tongued whip.”

She was fully prepared for him to turn her back around and strike her once more, but when he did not, she breathed a sigh of relief. When he did not immediately insist she bend back over, her eyes filled with worry. Hermione tried to read his eyes, but it was no use. She looked down at the only toy he had yet to use on her; the crop. Nervously she plucked it up from the sink, turning it over and over in her hand. It felt no different from the Spades of Sunday crop that she had played with in the workshop. It even looked similar, save for the tip was not spade shaped. With a tremble in her hand that she wished for all the world was not there, she held out the handle to him.

Severus smirked ever so slightly. His fingers brushed over hers and curled slowly around the handle before he took it from her. She watched as he took several steps back toward the toilet and her mouth fell agape as he lowered the lid and sat down on the seat. “Come here.” He said. His voice sent a jolt of ice racing down her spine. Two simple words; uttered with nothing more than a commanding tone to ensure that she knew she was to obey him and her body all but exploded. She could see without another word from him exactly what he intended to do and it mortified her. At least, it mortified her mind. Her body was all but screaming for her to race over to him, throw herself over his lap and wait to be disciplined.

“Are you—” her rational mind won out over her body but her question was never fully formulated.

“I said come here, Miss Granger.” His voice was sterner this time, as if her half-asked question was trying his patience.

Trembling, timid steps took her over to where he now sat and she eyed him an uncertain glance. He spoke not another word. He didn’t have to. She could tell just from looking at him that he expected her to kneel down and lay her stomach over his lap. And her body wanted to. She desperately wanted to throw herself over him, feel the crop against her backside as he wielded it and tremble her way to orgasm while he spanked her with the little leather toy. He’d awakened something inside of her; a carnal lust-driven wildcat of sorts that craved this insanely taboo thing. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. A few hours earlier the thought of being spanked had terrified her and she’d cried and fussed over it. And then he’d worked her up into a frenzy and she’d found that she’d enjoyed it.

But was she enjoying it because she was uncovering a masochistic side of herself? Or because he was the one that was spanking her? She tried for a moment to picture how being spanked would have felt by Ron or by Viktor; neither image was rewarding let alone arousing. She imagined Viktor, with as heavy handed and brutal as his petting had been, would have been nothing but painful as he took to spanking at her, even if he’d only used his hand. And try as she might she simply couldn’t picture Ron with any sort of equipment that would force him into that sort of dominance. He was not a submissive by any means of the word, but he was selfish. And exploring something like crops and spanking was beyond his comprehension.

She had experienced no other men that she could qualify as pleasant sexual encounters and found it impossible to imagine a prince charming or fantasy lover in her mind. When she did all that she could picture was Severus. She was lost in her mind, trying to separate him from the action to determine if she enjoyed it for what it was or because it was something he was doing to her. But she was not allowed to mull it over further as his hand gripped her hip and pushed her forward. Hermione did not stumble. She eased her stomach forward over his legs, her entire body quaking as she felt herself settle onto his lap. It was an awkward position until he pushed her body forward.

The weight of her body rested square on his thighs, her legs now dangling off him as were her breasts and the rest of her upper body. “Are you sure this is—”

The hand that had pushed her was now pressed fully over her mouth. It was not a finger to her lips but rather his entire hand over her face just below her nose. “You will be quiet.” He said. “If you cannot, I shall add to the number of times I spank you with the crop.”

This floored her. “Surely you don’t mean to— ooh!” she cried, feeling the firm sting of the leather head against her right cheek.

“I do not mix words, Miss Granger. This is still a lesson, you will hold your tongue while I am teaching.” Again he smacked the crop against her arse, her left cheek this time. In the recesses of her mind she noted the way he switched cheeks as he spanked her; the pressure firm but not unrelenting, as if channeled directly through the center of the crop’s face. He moved the crop around as he spanked her, alternating cheeks and where on her cheek the blows landed. But she couldn’t help herself, try as she might to restrain her vocalizations. Hermione cried outright when he landed a blow particularly close to her crack; the painfully pleasurable sensation dizzying to her senses.

Another crack landed on her flesh. Then she felt his hand. He was pulling her thighs apart, spreading them outward from each other; exposing her dripping sex. “What are you— oh! Oh! Ooh!” she whimpered; three more heavy cracks of the crop landing on the top swell of her left cheek. A fourth smack of the leather landed just inside her thigh, dangerously close to her sex. She could feel the lingering sting of the leather all over her backside. Hermione’s heart was racing, her blood was thrumming in her ears and her breathing was growing labored.

“The angle changes everything, does it not?”

“Yes it— oh!” she cried. It was no longer the crop against her backside. Severus had spanked her with his bare hand. The sting was excruciatingly delicious; the firm weight of his palm still cupping her right cheek. “What did you do that for? Ooh!’ she shrieked again, squirming slightly as he slapped his hand firmly against the inside of her thigh. Two slender digits swiped against her sex. Hermione shuddered. His palm landed against her again; firm and unyielding. Where the crop had gone she hadn’t the slightest but she felt her chest tighten. She tried twisting her head back over her shoulder but she felt his fingers pressing on her skin just between her shoulder blades.

Hermione could feel her walls clenching, desperate to feel that blissful sensation of being penetrated by him. His fingers, his tongue, his cock; all of it had come to mean sheer ecstasy for her womanhood every time he came near her. And there he was; teasing her slick folds with two of his fingers. She moaned as he spanked her again; a rhythm of sorts echoing against her skin as he cupped her cheek before repeating his gesture. And then she groaned, rolling her hips back, unable to help herself. Two fingers pressed into the heat of her sex, curling upward as another blow landed against her skin.

His body was sturdy and from the way she was splayed across him she couldn’t tell if what he was doing was causing him arousal or not. But in that moment she was lost in her own ecstatic pleasure and couldn’t be bothered to care. She’d lost control of her body and her mind; the former of which was bucking and writhing about atop his lap as he fingered her sex, in and out, slowly and then quickly, flexing and curling his fingers all the while his other hand continued to spank her. She moaned; she groaned; she cried out, her body wracked with tremors of pleasure that were so intense she was certain she would shake apart when she came.

She rocked on his lap, feeling his fingers pushing deeper into her. All thoughts of confusion over the act had fled her mind, all thoughts of being mid-cycle had vanished as well. In that moment all she could feel was his fingers inside of her, coaxing her to release as he continued to spank her arse. There was a sting and it prickled at her eyes, but she was too swept up in the pleasurable sensation that followed to notice that she was crying slightly. “Oh gods, oh— ooh! Ooh— Severus— ooh!” she screamed, feeling her walls clench tightly against his fingers as her body shook and her orgasm crested. He had not stopped spanking her until she began to shake violently atop him, her body seized by the spasm of her release.

Deep shuddering breaths filled her lungs as she laid limp across his thighs. She felt his fingers glide slowly back from her sex, the loss of their fullness making her whimper just slightly. Hermione half expected to be pitched to the floor. What she hadn’t expected was the hand that threaded into her hair. She closed her eyes, disbelieving such a gesture as she felt the shortness of his nails rake idly over her scalp. For a moment she laid there, tempted to believe that she was in some post-orgasmic shock and that her mind was tricking her into feeling his hand. But when she felt his fingers tugging at her hair, she roused, slowly lifting her head and tilting it to face him.

Her eyes met his and for a moment she saw something there. It was that same something she had seen before; an unidentifiable emotion caught halfway between something akin to concern or perhaps fondness. But as quickly as she had seen it, just like every time before, it was gone. Hermione sighed. She felt his fingers fall away from her hair as she carefully pulled herself up off his lap. Her legs were wobbly as she stood on them, but she managed after a moment. She bit her lower lip and was surprised that he did not jump up and pinch it back from her teeth.

She stared at him for a long moment, her body still attempting to calm down from the experience. When he’d guided her through anal sex, the experience had been so overwhelming that she’d fallen asleep in his bed. When he’d guided her through her first blow job she’d tossed and turned unable to sleep thereafter. This experience was churning a new set of sensations in the pit of her stomach. A part of her was ready to explode at the mouth and vocalize every thought that was racing through her mind as the sexual satiated fog cleared from her head. Another part of her thought it was best if she just nodded her head and slipped out of the bathroom, but a third part of her still realized that she would need to clean up. A nervous glance at his hand confirmed her suspicions; he was coated though not quite as bad as she’d expected in her menstrual blood. Though if he seemed to mind, he said nothing to that effect.

When finally he did stand and she had not moved back, it brought them chest to chest. Her breasts brushed just below his torso and the contact was enough to make her nipples harden. It wasn’t intentional defiance; Hermione had not meant to corner him there between her body and the toilet seat, but when he made no move to push her out of the way, or no protestation to pass her, she found a spark of confidence, or perhaps stupidity. She reached one hand up and placed it on the top of his shoulder. His eyes followed her hand and then moved back to hold her gaze.

She didn’t speak, though she had plenty to say. Hermione’s other hand trembled as she brought it up to his other shoulder. Both hands now gripped his bare shoulders and with a little effort she pressed down on him. She was not foolish enough to think that she was strong enough to force him back down onto the toilet seat, but when he did bow beneath her pushing she knew there was some small victory gained. If he had wished to remain standing she knew full well he would have. Hermione tilted her head upward for the briefest of moments, closing her eyes in a silent prayer. There was still a tremor in her leg as she stepped forward and straddled herself over his lap. She held herself there; standing with him between her legs for a moment, both hands still firmly on his shoulders.

It was a slow motion; deliberate and uncertain— half terrified that it would earn her a rebuke, half petrified that she would be wrong. Hermione sank down, bending into her hips until she rested her core against his lap. The bulge of his cock restrained inside his trousers pressed up against her center and she bit her lower lip to keep from gasping aloud. She’d been scared that she would lower herself into his lap and feel nothing; that the experience had been nothing more than a teaching lesson.

“And now?” his words cut through her mind like ice.

Hermione’s eyes flew to his, searching the black depths for some sort of sign. He was impossible to read at the best of times. What had she been planning to do? Sitting astride his trousers despite her own body being naked achieved little more than proving to her that he was sporting an erection, however well concealed inside the black fabric. Had that been all she had wanted to know? Surely a hand to his crotch could have told her as much. But she had straddled herself over him, pushed him back down to sit on the toilet seat and was now astride his lap, both hands still holding him there.

It was the most forward she had dared to be with him. She was naked and he half naked. This was not part of the lesson; this was not her being cheeky and trying to force him out of his cloistered shell. She had no idea what she was doing or even why she’d done it. But he hadn’t pushed her off him, he hadn’t verbally berated her. He hadn’t even gone so far as to tell her that she was being too familiar with him. That was beyond her comprehension. She blinked her eyes several times trying to grasp the reality of the situation. The logical thing to do would have been to remove herself from his lap. It was a dangerous game she was playing; flirting with disaster sitting astride him. Or even the more illogical choice of leaning forward and planting a kiss upon his lips; that would have been better than the frozen state of indecision in which she found herself.

The hand on the small of her back made her whole body tense. It was joined by his other hand; both arms around her back now, circling her into a loose embrace. Hermione lifted her right hand from his shoulder, watching as her fingers trembled. She cupped the side of his cheek; the heat of his face radiating into her palm. He was surprisingly warm; a fact that never escaped her notice but always seemed to surprise her. She closed her eyes and held his face in her hand, inhaling slowly, her hips rocking slightly forward. The heated breath at her left ear caused her to shiver.

“You are playing with fire, Miss Granger…” the words trailed off in his throat. His voice was low; coarse and uneven as she had heard him speak in the workshop so many times when desperately trying to restrain himself. The tone flooded her core and she felt herself gush as her thighs trembled. She didn’t care that she was now wetting his trousers; if anything she could have sworn she felt his erection pulse beneath her as she trembled. She wanted him; needed him and she didn’t care if he scorched her alive in the process.

Her other hand lifted from his shoulder; both hands now cupping his face. He did not pull back from her. He did not flinch. He did not reprimand her. She felt his hands slide slowly across the spans of her lower back, fanning his fingers out until he was pressing his palms into her skin. It arched her forward ever so slightly; a push of encouragement. Even if it wasn’t it was how she took it and in that moment, Hermione found courage. It was driven by something other than logic; a carnal need to have more from him than these lessons and their interactions in the workshop. Her head dipped forward and she pressed her lips against his. She had kissed him before. But this was different. There was as much hesitancy as there was determination; a full and slow kiss where her lips rested against his as her body pressed forward, her hips wriggling slightly in his lap.

She slowly pulled her lips back from his, her face still hovering in front of his, their noses touching. It was chaste; so subtle that it could have been the dizzying sweep of her own body that brought their lips together once more; but she felt it. His lips brushing hers ever so slightly. A hint of a kiss that would have been for naught had she pulled her face back any further. It was delicate; innocent and short-lived but she had felt his lips on hers. Hermione pressed her lips to his again; fully and warmly, her tongue daring a timid trek across his top lip. She burned with need but could not bring herself to plunge her tongue into his mouth.

His hands gripped her back more firmly then and she was startled. Her breath hitched in her throat and she forced herself not to protest, feeling his lips as they moved against the corner of her mouth, slowly back along her jaw to her ear. There were no words; only his breath. Slow, even, and deep; she could feel his chest rising and falling against hers as the heat of his mouth warmed her ear. She tried not to shiver, she tried to keep very still, but she couldn’t help herself as she ground her hips down against him, desperate to feel him fill her. If it hadn’t been for his trousers, she might have impaled herself on him and ridden him through another orgasm. It was something about him and all the wild things he did to her that had awakened a sexual succubus inside of her.

It flashed quickly in her mind the things she’d read in that tome. The witch’s menses once fully awakened could demand insatiable lusty cravings during her cycle, further fueled by sexual fetishes, and other such desires being introduced. For a moment she wondered if it were truly him that was driving her need or just a part of being a witch. But that thought did not linger as his words, deep and slow with a deliberate roughness, pierced her mind.

“Enough is enough.”

She couldn’t protest. The words hadn’t even registered in her mind before she found herself being hoisted up from his lap. Her feet touched the cold porcelain tile of the bathroom floor and it took all Hermione had not to sob her protest. He too was standing, pressed closely to her, hands still clutching her hips from where he had lifted her. Their bodies continued to touch, her breasts pressed firmly just under his torso and she gazed up at him, unsettled and unfocused. Had she waited too long? Was she meant to be more aggressive? More assertive? Her thoughts raced in her mind and she hardly noticed him step back from her, releasing her entirely. The sound of the shower filled her ears and she turned to see him fiddling with the tap.

Hermione stood dumbstruck. There had been a kiss, however subtle, and he had even gone so far as to encourage her. What in the hell had gone wrong? She was beside herself trying to make sense of it. One of those moments he was so often referencing; had it merely been that he had been caught up in it long enough to let her test the waters? And she hadn’t pushed herself far enough. She should have pressed her tongue into his mouth, she should have undone his trousers. Somehow the opportunity had presented itself and she’d missed it. His voice struck her again and when she focused her eyes on him she felt her body blush just to look at him.

He’d undone his trousers and was standing with his cock jutting out of them, the head of his erection weeping with precum. She watched in slow motion as he slid the material down his legs and stepped out of them, stepping up into the shower. His eyes never left hers and she was all but frozen to the spot as she watched him step into the spray. “You are trying my patience, Miss Granger.” He said.

Her cue to leave. She was not so foolish as to try and press her luck once more. He’d found himself in a state, they’d been caught up in a moment and she hadn’t had enough courage to take it a step further. Hermione tried not to slump forward like a cowed dog fleeing the scene with its tail between its legs as she walked toward the shower. She refused to slink out of the bathroom feeling the full sting of his rejection all through her body. The hand that grabbed her arm as she walked past the shower caught her so off-guard that she nearly slipped and fell to the ground; her only saving grace was that even when soaking wet in the shower his reflexes were lighting quick.

She found herself being held upright by his strong arms, the lip of the tub between them. The heat of the water sprayed over his figure, spritzing her across the face. She scrunched her nose and blinked her eyes and then she cried out in surprise as she was lifted up and into the shower. The curtain was yanked shut and her eyes grew wide as she gazed at him. She was moving backwards, both of his hands still on her body from where he had lifted her, the spray now thundering down upon her back. They had shared this shower once before though it had been very, very different. There was light in the bathroom and she could see every inch of him. The way his hair clung to his neck, the way the water glistened on his chest; she could see every swirl of unreadable emotion in his eyes as he advanced on her.

Severus pressed her against the wall and she whimpered. “I said enough is enough.” His voice was strangled, a sound she knew all too well. There was a look; a moment’s hesitation as she watched his eyes search her own. But like all looks that flitted across the features of Severus Snape, it was quickly gone. His lips pressed hard against hers, and she felt his hand grasp firmly at her left hip, dragging her leg up the side of his body. This drew him up between her legs as he held her leg high up against his hip. Without warning she felt him; thick and hard pressing against her core and then he was thrusting himself up inside of her. Hermione cried out, but the sound was lost in his mouth. His hands were tangled in her hair; the water spraying down hard over both of them and she was shuddering on her feet.

His hips banged into her hard; slamming his cock upward into her again and again. It was fierce and more intense than anything she’d ever felt. Even when the various products in the workshop had caused him to lose his grip on his pristine control it had never felt like it felt in that moment. His kiss was brutal; harsh and demanding. Even the night he had kissed her to mock her in his kitchen paled by comparison to the way he assaulted her mouth now. It felt like every ounce of restraint that he enforced upon himself when they were at work was flowing into her now. Severus continued to pump hard up into her, slamming himself deep within her, all the while tightly holding her leg against his side.

Hermione broke their kiss gasping for air. She was whimpering and mewling; her tender backside pressed hard against the wall of the shower. It was a barrage of sensations; his cock filling her, flooding her with ecstasy and his lips now sucking at the side of her throat, his teeth scraping over her skin. One hand was tugging through her hair the other leaving bruises on the side of her thigh for the pressure that held her in place. She was crying out; her body arching forward against the wall; meeting his hot flesh in every possible way. Her arms wrapped around him, nails digging into the back of his shoulder blades. She would have bruises and he would have crescent marks in his flesh when all was said and done.

Her core was quaking; her walls clenching, feeling the pulse of him as he slammed into her again and again. She felt her body tense; Hermione cried out, feeling a particularly rough jerk of his hips as her orgasm broke through her body. She shuddered, she fell forward against his shoulder and was panting, desperate for breath. He was still grinding his hips up into her; his breathing heavy, though he did not growl or cry out as she did. And then she felt him slam her hard and heat erupted in her; his own release following hers. He crushed her back against the wall, his cock shuddering through spasm after spasm of release. Severus kept her pinned to the wall of the shower; hot water pouring over them as they panted and came down from their respective climaxes.

She did not release her arms from around him, nor bother to move her head up from his shoulders. Her hair was heavy with water, clinging all around her and it took all she had to let her leg slide down his body, though she noted the way his hand seemed to guide her as she did so. It was several moments of just standing pressed between his chest and the wall before she opened her eyes and gazed at him. He was still Severus Snape; that much had not changed, but something inside of him had snapped. His snap caused her a world of confusion but in that moment she settled for holding his gaze. When two of his fingers brushed against her cheek she closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture. But much like his fleeting glimpses of indistinguishable emotions, the sensation flittered away before she could process it. He’d withdrawn his hand, but did not withdraw from her figure, leaving their bodies aligned and touching.

“I—”

His finger stopped her lips. “No, you don’t.” he said firmly. He held her gaze in a way that kept her silent. She must have given off a look that promised she would not speak because he slid his finger down her lips, tilted her chin up and held it there as he gazed hard into her eyes. “No,” he repeated himself. “You do not.” His lips fluttered close to hers, brushing them. It was a ghost of a kiss, so very much like the one he had given her when she had straddled herself over his lap. But it was a kiss just the same, however faint, and she all but melted up into it. Their lips met, his tongue brushing hers for the briefest of seconds before he pulled away, once more searching her eyes.

“But if I—”

Again his finger was there to still her lips. And then it was gone. His finger, his body, his gaze. She watched in longing as he stepped slowly back from her, extricating their bodies from one another. “Wash up, Miss Granger,” he nodded at her. Without another word, he stepped from the shower, drew the curtain closed and left her alone beneath the spray.


	13. Whips and Whatnot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more with whips and paddles and things of the like and more anal play here.

They did not talk about the shower sex. She had numbly went through the motions of cleaning herself off in the shower. When she’d wrapped up in towels and padded into the hallway his bedroom door was shut. She thought to knock on it once or twice, even perhaps to just enter his room. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Not for a lack of wanting to do so, but rather a fear of what awaited her if he would see her. She might have knocked on the door half the night, him locked inside refusing to answer it. But that was a scenario she hadn’t faced. Instead she’d tossed and she’d turned on her mattress trying to make sense of what had happened.  
She could justify the spanking. Even though he’d laid her over his lap she could write that off as experimental. He had said something about changing the position, or perhaps she’d imagined him saying it. Either way it mattered very little by comparison to what had followed. She’d straddled herself over him, curiosity claiming the better of her senses and insisting she learn whether or not the spanking had aroused him. And she’d felt his arousal all too plainly; his thick cock had been hard at attention when she’d sank down into his lap. She knew she’d stained his trousers with her blood but for all the world he seemed not to notice let alone care.

That was when she lost hold of how to justify her actions. He played her mind game better than she did and what had started out as intrigue and bold daring quickly slid down a slippery slope, well past a point of no return in the pit of carnal urges and desires that had consumed them both. There had been a kiss, the slightest hint of one before he’d pulled her into the shower. That was where she was stuck. The ephemeral whisper of lips against her own so subtle that she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. And then the rebuke and rejection, which she’d misinterpreted, and then the shower.

The sex in the shower. The exquisite rough and unrestrained sex that was filled with reckless abandon just like one of Ginny’s bodice ripping novels. Only it had been in the shower and it had been real. He’d kissed her then and made sure she was certain of his kiss, the rough tongue in her mouth, his fingers in her hair. The bruises had filled in as she’d predicted, staining the side of her thigh where he’d hoisted her leg up around his hip to fuck her. She imagined that his back was covered in little nail marks just between his shoulder blades. They’d clung to each other for a time afterward and it wasn’t until her words found their flight to his ear that he’d dismissed her.

She tried not to think about how easily he stopped those words. How he seemed to sense exactly what she was going to say and kept her silent. Hermione tried not to think about how easily she had almost uttered them and how truly mad she must have gone to think that she believed it. Sleep had not found her at all that night so by midday she was beyond knackered. She hadn’t crossed paths with him in the kitchen or the bathroom or anywhere. She wasn’t even certain he had remained in the house, but she wasn’t about to go banging about just to check. If he wanted to speak with her, he would find her.

Somewhere between late morning and early afternoon an owl arrived with a letter from George stating that they’d start a bit later that evening, closer to half six. The emergency at The Burrow had been less of an emergency and more of a peevish prank from the family poltergeist, but in Molly’s panic she had overreacted. Hermione was grateful that nothing was seriously wrong with Molly, The Burrow, or any member of the Weasley clan, but it did not settle her stomach in the least to think that in a few hours time she would be confronted with Severus for the first time since he’d parted the shower. She knew full well that he would not utter a word regarding their encounter in front of George Weasley, but that did little quell her nerves.

The bleeding of her menses was trickling to an end and for that she was grateful. There were many downsides to a witch’s fully awakened menses, but the upside was that the overall time of bleeding was significantly shorter even if the symptoms and flow were much more severe. Another night and she’d be back to her normal self in regards to her womanhood. She could hardly wait.

Hermione waited until quarter past six before getting herself ready and leaving Spinner’s End. Severus was still nowhere to be found. She didn’t let it concern her, though she had the sinking suspicion that she would not do as well concealing their involvement from the night before as he would. Though she wouldn’t bring it up, she knew working with him that night in the workshop would be very, very difficult. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled the door to Spinner’s End shut, took two steps down off the front stoop, and apparated to Diagon Alley. 

The shop was dim inside upon her arrival, but she knew that George was up in the workshop as she could see the door at the top of the stairs slightly ajar. She steeled her nerves and took the steps slowly. The unsettled discomfort of her stomach had nothing to do with the end of her cycle, but if it became apparent that she was ill at ease, she was fully prepared to blame it on such. When Hermione slipped into the workshop, she was surprised to see that the makeshift bed was still assembled. But she was even more surprised to see Severus seated upon it, already wearing his workshop robe.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said and moved over to the hook where they hung their clothes.

“Nah, you’re not late, Hermione. Right on time!” George seemed in good spirits and greeted her with his signature lopsided grin. He gestured to Severus. “I think we’re going to finish up that Week of Whips, as you called them. Five more to go, though Severus said he might need a pause or so after the first two.” George had pulled his little stool and ledger stand quite close to the bed. “I think they’re brilliant so far,” he said without really addressing that comment to anyone.

Hermione watched as George moved around to the box that had held the various products meant to be geared toward oral sex and snogging. He removed the red silk from it and handed it to her. “We can use this again, I reckon. Get him tied back up proper so you can test the whips,” he nodded to Severus, who had already shrugged out of his robe and was lying back on the makeshift bed. “And he’s got the last two Jizz Juicers from that original packet should he achieve or need to achieve completion.” George sounded quite pleased with himself. “Between whips I’ve got a few things in that box there that we can work with if you’re still— well— you know,” he said sheepishly.

She nodded her head. Nobody wanted to discuss her menstrual cycle, and that was fine with her. Though she couldn’t help but in that moment think about how Severus Snape hadn’t given a rat’s arse about it when he’d fingered her while he spanked her. Or when he fucked her senseless in the shower shortly thereafter. The memory sent a shiver up her spine, which she shrugged off as adjusting to the chill of the room as she donned her robe. She couldn’t fathom why she didn’t just stay in her day clothes, after all she was only going to be paddling and spanking him with the whips. But his words about leveling the playing field echoed in her mind and she realized that she did it, however subconsciously, to put herself at ease with him.

Hermione tugged the ends of the red silk and watched in fascination as they once again split into three lengths and worked quickly to bind his legs up as they had the day before. They pulled the lower half of his body up off the bed, exposing his backside to her view. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to remember the things she had felt and what he had said about the different types of whips and crops. She was certain she would forget things, but the most important thing she had taken away from that lesson had been to alternate cheeks. If nothing else, he would be equally sore while she tested the remaining five whips.

“Which one, George?” she asked.

The red-head shrugged his shoulders. “Just pick one, I guess? We’ve already done Spades of Sunday and Friday’s Fantasy Flogger. Whichever one you fancy.”

Hermione looked at the roll of whips on the table. She plucked the handle of a paddle from the third slot. It looked like a hybrid between a paddle and a two-tongued whip, where the paddle was split into two firm strips that looked a bit like rabbit ears. “Um— this one. The third slot.” she said, holding the handle firmly in her palm. It was wooden, covered in the same leather as the paddled end.

“Third…third…ah. The Highland Tuesday Tawse,” he said, tracing his finger over the entry in the ledger. George read the entry. “The Highland Tuesday Tawse is old-school, modeled after school crops, perfect for role playing with your favorite naughty professor. The split-two tail design enhances the games with a delayed response and is firm enough to be used all over, from knuckles to the rear and back.”

Hermione tried not to laugh at the product’s description, which was easy enough considering just how embarrassed she felt holding such a thing. An instrument of bondage and dominance was one thing; thinking about roleplaying as a student and a professor was something else entirely. She bit her lower lip and tried to chase the blush from her cheeks. “Er— delayed response?” she asked.

George shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out in a minute. Have a go, then.” He said and turned his eyes to Severus, anticipating the wizard’s reaction.

She nodded and took up her place standing just at the foot of the bed. Remember, alternate. This is like a paddle, so full firm strokes wide across, her mind instructed her. She tried not to moan thinking about the way the paddle had landed against her own arse as she had bent over the sink. She had begged him to spank her lower, wanting to feel the full weight of it at the dead center of her arse. Hermione closed her eyes to chase the memories from her mind lest she moan aloud and cause a scene. With the paddle’s end gripped firmly in her hand she lined up her arm and gave his arse a firm smack clear across the center, hitting both cheeks evenly.

The split strips of leather landed against his flesh with a heavy smacking sound. She hadn’t pulled the paddle back but a second later the two tails flexed back of their own accord and landed taps against his skin. They were not nearly as full and as weighted as when she had swung the paddle, but they made just as loud a sound. Hermione was wide-eyed at this phenomenon. A paddle that could reverberate its own actions? This was mildly intriguing. She was careful as she pulled the paddle back, lowering it somewhat so that it would not land directly where it had before. Again she flipped her wrist firmly, the paddle landing a smooth blow across him. And just as it had before a split second later there were two firm thwaps from the split tailed leather.

“How does it feel, Severus?”

“Like a paddle that she’s managed to double and split,” he said through clenched teeth.

“It’s spanking you on its own,” she said. “After I do, I mean. The split leather tails wait a moment after the paddle has connected and then they snap back like auto-launched rubber bands.”

“Bloody brilliant,” George grinned. “And it feels alright? The secondary sting not too much?” he asked.

Severus shook his head. She tried not to notice the way he was restraining himself; already his cock was rigid. Such a simple thing, restraint and spanking him. Hermione found it curious that he was aroused not only by being spanked but by spanking her. Perhaps he was versatile when it came to whether he liked to dominate or be dominated, or perhaps much like it was with her, he was only aroused by such things because she was the one involved. Hermione tried not to put too much thought into the latter thought.

“That one seems simple enough. Handles alright in your hand, Hermione?” he asked, once again scribbling in the ledger.

For good measure, Hermione hauled back her arm and gave him three more good wallops, each one shifted slightly up or down from the previous spank so as to not hurt him too much in the same area. Each paddle was accompanied by the delayed double smack and she couldn’t help but smirk, noting the way his body jerked. “Handles just fine, the handle actually feels like it’s made to be gripped the way I’m holding it.”

“Right.” George scribbled some more and then looked up at Severus. “Another one, and then we’ll see how you are?” Severus only nodded in his direction. He signaled Hermione to return the Highland Tuesday Tawse to its sleeve and select another whip.

With three used and four to go, Hermione took a moment to carefully glance over each one. Though she knew they’d get to them all, she figured the next one would be the last before he would need a break. Between the strain of the silk binding, and whatever enchantment the next toy would contain, it might be enough to send him over the edge. She ran her hands over the clear plastic sleeves as if touching their casing might help her decide which one to choose. She settled on the last in the roll, pulling it carefully from its plastic. “It’s the last one,” she said to George, turning the slender handle over in her palm.

Somewhat of a paddle, the length that protruded from the handle was tier-stacked. Three sets of very distinctly defined and brightly colored lips sat atop one another, the widest at the base, a smaller one in the middle and a much tinier one at the top. Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion. The largest set of lips were closed, as if puckered for a kiss. The middle set of lips were parted slightly, showing the hint of a tongue, and the top set of lips bared tiny little pointed fangs from the upper lip. She flipped the paddle over, the backside a rich black leather that was smooth to the touch.

“Saturday’s Sassy Smacker,” he read from the ledger. “A stacked paddle designed for triple your pleasure…lips, tongue, and teeth, a surefire way to shake up your Saturday night.” George looked up from the ledger and shrugged. “With Fred? Who knows,” he chuckled a bit and then nodded at Hermione.

What on earth it was meant to do other than have a novel appearance, she couldn’t say, but she knew in just a moment she would find out. This was far more of a paddle than the strange split whip had been, though it held the same rigidity. She gripped the handle firmly and moved to stand at the foot of the bed once more. She concentrated on how she had felt the paddle on her own backside, once again lining it up for a strike that would cross the center of his arse. She took a half step closer and flung her arm forward. The paddle’s face connected with his skin and stuck.

Severus cried out; it was a broken, surprised cry. Hermione was so startled by the sound that she released the handle, shocked when it remained firmly affixed to his backside. She watched in awe as the paddle seemed to shift about. After a moment it fell from his skin and clattered to the floor. The most notable thing on his flesh were the two tiny teeth marks, angry and red, though not enough to have drawn blood. She brought her trembling hand up and touched his ass, noting the way he flinched and hissed when she dragged her finger over the little puncture wounds. She bent and retrieved the paddle, gazing at the intricate work of the lips.

“It bit you?” she asked, peering around the side of the bed. His face was screwed up tight, his cock rigid and weeping. His chest was heaving, up and down, though not as heavily as he had panted with her in the shower the night before. “Severus— did the paddle bite you?” she rephrased her question, stepping closer to him. He did not open his eyes, clearly straining to control his response to the enchanted paddle. When she placed her hand on his chest his eyes shot open. She gazed into his eyes, lips pursed to repeat her question for the third time but he stopped her.

“Yes,” he growled. “Among other things.”

Hermione’s brows lifted on her forehead. “Other things?”

“Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, you’ll have to use it again for me to be certain as to what.” These words were ground out between clenched teeth; it was a great effort on his part to restrain whatever it was that he was holding back.

She nodded, feeling slightly shaken. A paddle that could bite was certainly unsettling, and she tried to imagine him using it upon her. Even if it was him, she wasn’t overly fond of sentient objects, and would much rather prefer his lips to bite the supple flesh of her arse than a paddle wielded by his hand. Returning to her post at the foot of the bed, Hermione thwacked the paddle against his backside once more, a bit lower and closer to the bottom swell of his cheeks. Again the paddle’s face stuck to his flesh, though she held onto the handle more firmly until she felt it give way. A third strike had him all but sobbing, and she noticed when she pulled it back that his flesh was wet, just off to the right of the puncture wounds, which now dotted his flesh in three places.

“Biting…licking…and?” she asked, more to herself than to Severus.

Severus groaned as she paddled him a fourth time, watching as his limbs trembled violently. “Come here, Miss Granger…” he hissed. She had all but forgotten that they were meant to be testing the remaining Jizz Juicers if he found himself nearing orgasm. The tone of his voice quickly reminded her and without ceremony, she dropped the paddle and scooted around to the side of the bed. The angle at which he was strung was still awkward, but she managed to kneel over him and brought her lips to his weeping tip. It only took a few caresses of her tongue and he was squirting his release into her mouth.

The taste was tart. A sour almost lemon-like flavor, terribly unpleasant and not at all sweet. She swallowed his seed, preferring the taste of his own essence to whatever foul concoction had tinted that particular pearl. Hermione was quick to wipe her mouth, her face pinched as she did so. “George, that was terrible,” she said, coming round to stand beside him and the ledger. “Lemon, I think. Or something like it, but dreadfully tart and far too sour.” She omitted that she preferred Severus’ natural taste.

“Untie…me…” he panted.

“Oh! Sorry!” she cried, scurrying back over to the bed to undo the bindings that held his legs upright. She let her fingers linger just a moment on his legs, but he paid her no mind and was quick to his feet, drawing his robe around him. “Are you—”

“Fine, Miss Granger,” he waved her off. He glared pointedly at George. “A break,” he said. “At least from that.”

“Sure, fine. But what on earth was happening with that paddle?”

Hermione watched Severus carefully, listening to his every word. “There was a piercing puncture, mimicking no doubt some sort of vampiric bite…” as he said this she noted the way his eyes narrowed in distaste. “I can still feel the dull residual of said marking and no doubt have the physical evidence to prove it.” He paused only for a moment and then continued on in his succinct fashion. “A licking tongue and some sort of mouthing gesture, perhaps it was meant to be a suckling motion, though it was far too weak to be properly called so. All in all a clever, if poorly executed idea. A lover’s bite would be more suitable over those fangs.”

She was astounded at his ability to so clinically assess the experience. She would have been a wreck trying to explain what such a thing had felt like. He was correct in thinking that the little teeth of the upper set of lips had left marks on his backside. She knew they would fade, most likely before they even set back to working with the final three whips, but that hadn’t stopped her from appreciating them when she’d noted their appearance.

“What else did you have in mind, George?” she asked.

George Weasley finished frantically flinging red ink about the ledger before he leaped up from the stool and all but bounded over to the box of products. He pulled out a can and held it up. “Oops, not this one.” He grinned with a blush.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, moving over to look at the strange purple can. Though the minute she’d laid eyes on the product she wished she had not. “Oh…dear…”

George chuckled. “That’s why I said not this one, we’ll wait a few days until you’re— well— in the clear,” he said and set the can down beside the box. He continued to rummage around the box; Hermione picked up the can and gave it a closer look.

Grow-A-Dick. The image on the can showed a crude animation; a woman placing the can over her sex and when she pulled it away a hard erection appeared to have sprouted out from her core. Hermione shuddered. No doubt the product was intended for anal penetration, but it terrified her just the same. She was grateful that for the moment George wanted to wait on that particular product, but she realized with some degree of horror that she wouldn’t be on her cycle forever. Eventually she was going to have to test it. But those thoughts were put out of her mind as George pulled from the box of products a smaller box that looked like it was covered in black storm clouds.

“Bloody love Fred. His marketing was almost as good as the products themselves,” he grinned. She could not recall a time that she had seen him in such great spirits since the passing of his twin, and in that moment all thoughts of frightening products were put out of her mind.

“What is it?” she asked, taking the box as he handed it to her.

“The Thunder Down Under” he said and raced back to the ledger. She should have been nervous about his eagerness over it. Hermione dared a glance in Severus’ direction. As usual he seemed nonplused by whatever fantastical horror awaited them. The really brilliant ideas that had been some of the twins’ most successful products during the days of their skiving snackboxes had been truly terrifying. The enthusiasm that George was radiating over the cloudy box reminded her of those days. She sighed and moved to stand near the bed.

“Open it, Hermione,” he said and thumbed a page over in the ledger. “I want to see if it looks like this.” George pointed to a peculiar drawing in the ledger. The picture looked like little more than black scribbled blobs stacked one on top of another, larger at the bottom and smaller at the top. She frowned, but pried back the lid of the box. A long and slender rod that was curved a bit like the letter ‘C’ was laid against puffy white satin. It was dark, a rich shade of charcoal and would have looked ordinary had it not been for the bulbous puffs spaced evenly all along the length. At the base there was a gold-tinted handle, wide and shiny giving it the look of polished plastic.

“They look like clouds,” she said, carefully lifting the toy from its casing. The rod held its curved shape as she gripped the handle. Hermione poked a finger at the smallest rounded nub at the tip. “They feel like clouds that might also be made of rubber.”

“Says here…” George traced his fingers over the lines in the ledger that were squiggled all around the rudimentary drawing. “Thunder Down Under…anal training beads…bursting thunder storms…lighting zaps of pleasure…” He turned his eyes up to Hermione. “Let me see the handle of that thing.”

Hermione could feel the nerves in her stomach starting to tighten. Anal anything made her feel uneasy. Even though the experience with Severus at Spinner’s End had prepared her, and the testing of both the D2 and the Wonder Water had given her more practice, there was something off-putting about the practice. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, but figured it was because of how taboo the subject was.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Severus approach them, lifting the product from her hand. Their fingers brushed and her eyes drew to his, but he was intent on gazing at the toy. “And what does it say by way of lubrication, Mr. Weasley?”

George shrugged. “It doesn’t. But I’ve got lube around here somewhere, I figured there would come a time when it might be needed— and honest it’s not a product, it’s something I picked up at the chemist,” he added. Hermione watched Severus appraise the situation. If he was wary over the lubrication, he didn’t say so. If he was intrigued or disenchanted with the product it was impossible to tell. She wished for all the world that he was easier to read, easier to understand, or at the very least that he would speak his mind so that she could better comprehend just where he stood and how he felt. Wasn’t he nervous? Or was he so practiced that such a novelty not only seemed common place to him but bored him? She suspected that the latter might be the case. But she was given no more time to dwell on it.

“Hermione why don’t you lay on the bed there and we’ll—”

“Mr. Weasley, might I suggest given the product’s description that it would be better tested on myself. Miss Granger, though prepared for such penetration, lacks the anatomical necessity to thoroughly benefit from these…” he trailed off for a moment, gazing down over George’s shoulder into the ledger. “…lightning zaps of pleasure…” His voice was flat as he read the words, but Hermione was too caught up in the fact that he’d just volunteered to be penetrated.

“Oh yeah…” George grinned a bit sheepishly. “Hadn’t thought about that— s’pose that makes sense, though.” He shrugged his shoulders once more and took up his quill pen. “You need a few minutes to— er, I’ve got to— bollocks. It’s up in my flat.” George stood from the stool. “I’ll only be a minute. Going to get the lube.” He departed from the workshop.

Hermione stood staring at Severus. “Read this description over,” he said and pointed at the ledger. She nodded her head, and tried not to let her gaze linger on him too long. Her eyes skimmed over the words. And his voice made her jump as it appeared just behind her ear. “Aloud, Miss Granger. I wish to see that you understand it.”

There was something about the way his lips hovered just at the back of her ear. Why had he felt the need to get so close to her just then? She chased the thought from her mind; he often got close to her in the workshop and now her mind was tormenting her over it because they’d had sex in the shower at Spinner’s End. Glorious, passionate, carnal sex that had nothing to do with education or work or anything other than two people’s bodies desperately needing each other. She realized why he had been so guarded and so cautious around her. Her mind was running amuck with interpretations over every little word and gesture now that the line of personal entanglement had been crossed. Perhaps he had been right to push her away.

“Miss Granger?” he asked, his voice edged with annoyance. “Before Mr. Weasley returns…” His hand rested firmly on her shoulder, as if he was pushing her forward to make the wording in the ledger clearer.

“Sorry,” she muttered and then squinted at Fred’s atrocious handwriting. Hermione placed her finger under the squiggle to keep her place amid the splatters of ink and other things that covered the page. “Thunder Down Under… a one-time use set of anal training beads designed to brew a storm of pleasure for you. Guide the Thunder Rod into your back door and with each penetrated bead you’ll experience bursting thunder storms. Press the button at the bottom of the wand base for additional lightning zaps of pleasure.”

Hermione turned her head to the side and gazed at him. His face was hovering just over her shoulder and turning brought their lips quite close together. She blushed. Despite the way he’d ravished her in the shower, and all of the ways he’d become intimate with her— whether they were work-related or pressing the envelope of personal boundaries— she knew that she would never stop blushing at finding him so close to her person. It was foolish, but she couldn’t help herself. “I haven’t—”

“I can’t imagine that you would have,” he filled in her sentence before she could finish. He pulled his head back and took up her hand without warning. “It’s a delicate process, but I am not so fragile that you should be nervous,” he said. His voice was firm, dictating instruction with a leveled calm. “You’ll want to ease them in, one at a time, and give a good pause between moving forward especially as these are enchanted.” His fingers were laced over hers and he placed the handle into her palm. “Grip it firm but there’s no need to break your knuckles.”

“What if I push too hard? Or not hard enough?” she asked. Already she could feel her fingers trembling but she couldn’t be sure if it was because she was nervous or because he was holding her hand.

“It will take a moment to figure that out, but after the first one you’ll get the feel for it. It’s not a battering ram, but you’ll need a bit more effort than you would with your finger.”

Hermione nodded. She curled her fingers around the toy’s handle, noting the way his fingers curled with her. It was a moment, like so many of the moments that he attempted to avoid and then deny once they’d happened. She bit her lower lip and then felt his hand slip away from hers. Severus slipped out of his robe and moved over to the bed. She watched him climb onto it gracefully, easing himself down onto his stomach and then pushing himself up onto his knees. It presented her with a delightful view of his ass, which she noted was no longer sporting the red markings from the whips they’d tested.

She was timid and slow as she approached him. “The lube?” she asked. “How much will I—”

He turned his head over his shoulders, and she felt herself blush. He wasn’t angry, perhaps annoyed, but again that unreadable maelstrom of emotions had surfaced in his eyes. When he spoke his voice surprised her. “Use your judgement,” he said. “Too much and the toy might slip too easily. But you will want to be liberal.” There was a pause. “Double coat, the toy and my person,” he added before letting his head fall forward.

The workshop door banged open and George raced back in. “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t find it, but I found it.” Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. Everything he did seemed to be with heightened bursts of frenetic urgency. She closed her eyes for a moment and refocused on everything Severus had just told her. “Here, Hermione,” he said and handed her the tube of lubricant.

“Right,” she said and then laid the toy on the makeshift mattress beside Severus’ thigh. She noted that he’d spread his legs somewhat, giving her much easier access to the tiny pucker of his entrance. She inhaled slowly and then unscrewed the cap on the tube. It was thin and slippery. It reminded her of oil and she tried to reconcile that sensation with what he’d used on her the night at Spinner’s End. This was different, but she supposed as far as the current situation was concerned it would do. She coated her finger liberally and then drew her hand between his cheeks. She’d slipped her finger into him before, without the aid of lubrication, but she still felt nervous as she began to massage his entrance with slickness.

Hermione noted the way his legs tensed. The tautness of his muscles, the sharp though almost silent intake of his breath, all indicators of his arousal. She pressed her finger in against the rim of tightened muscles, letting the lubrication slip inside of him before she pulled her hand back and picked up the toy. A liberal amount was dribbled over the tip of the rod and she smoothed it all over the first nub. Biting her lower lip with uncertainty, she leaned forward and put one steadying hand on the side of his ass. In her other hand she gripped the handle and lined the tip against his entrance.

“Give it a go, then, and Severus, tell me how it— well— you know the drill. Hermione, after the first one is in, or maybe the second, see if that button does what it says it’s supposed to.” George’s voice was coarse, heavier than she’d heard it just moments ago. She tried not to think about just how aroused he was getting from watching her with an anal toy in her hand about to penetrate Severus Snape.

Hermione closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and then opened them. He did have a lovely arse. She pushed the rod forward, meeting a bit of resistance at first, but with a bit more force she felt the rod slide forward and she heard him gasp. She kept her other hand firm on the side of his cheek, knowing better than to overreact and ask if he was alright. The gasp hadn’t been pained, and although she hadn’t completely grown used to his restrained mannerisms, she was beginning to recognize his expressions. If she had hurt him or it was uncomfortable, he would make it known. She gripped the handle a bit more firmly and eased the rod in further. The second of the cloud-like beads eased into his taut ring of muscles.

“Merlin,” he hissed.

“Severus?” George asked, clearing his throat several times. She glanced at George. His face was so red she could hardly tell where his hair stopped and his skin began. This made her grin just a tiny bit; she wasn’t the only one who found his reaction to be quite arousing.

Hermione twisted the rod a bit in trying to maneuver her fingers to press the button at the base of the handle. The motion elicited a groan from Severus and she watched in fascination as his legs trembled and his back began to heave his labored breaths. More deliberately she twisted the rod again, making a full rotation with her hand before pushing the button in with her thumb. He cried out then; his body rocked back before pitching forward. She let go of the handle not wanting to jerk the toy back, but she couldn’t deny just how pleasing it was to watch him in the early throes of ecstasy.

He rocked on his knees, grunting and panting labored breaths. Hermione couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. But whatever it was, she was loving the result. “Should I keep going?” she asked, her voice quaking. After a moment of no response from him, save for the grunting and panting, she moved to kneel on the mattress. His body was no longer at the edge of the makeshift bed and as she climbed behind him, the springy transfigured table giving beneath her weight, she heard him groan. One hand again held his flesh while the other gripped the rod.

As she pushed the third and then the fourth bead into him, his body trembled more violently. She was determined to crack his resolve with the delicious torture of anal pleasure. She’d heard him at full voice in the shower; she’d felt him at full desire. Hermione knew that he enjoyed it a great deal more than the horrendous restraint he was imposing upon himself. She was knelt between his legs, which were spread wide as he rested on his knees, arse upward near her chest. She shifted over just enough to obscure the view of his backside from George.

As she pressed the base of the handle again and the rod began to vibrate, Hermione slipped the hand that had held the side of his cheek down beneath his legs and cupped his balls. It earned her a hiss from his lips. Squeezing them she pressed the rod in further, and she felt his whole body seize. With only five of the seven clouded-beads inside of him, she pressed the little button a third time, massaging his balls as she did. She was rewarded with the most pleasing sound she’d yet to hear.

“Gods,” he cried. It was a strangled sound that broke across his lips followed by a shallow and trembling moan as his body quaked. He came and Hermione closed her eyes, trying to imagine that surge of his seed squirting over her, or gushing into her. It was enough to melt her core and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning outright. She eased her hand back from between his legs, and carefully began to pull the rod back as well. His body shuddered as each bead was pulled from him until the rod was no longer penetrating him. Severus collapsed forward on the makeshift mattress, panting and twitching as he rolled onto his side.

“Fuck me,” George whispered, so flushed that he looked like an overripe apple.

Hermione glanced at the rod, noting that where the cloud-like beads had once been full and bulbous they were now little more than rounded plastic nubs. She summoned a cloth and the cleansing spray that they’d taken to using in the workshop and wiped down the toy before handing it to George. “It did say one-time use…” she shrugged.

“Right…erm— Severus, how— how was it?” he asked, his voice still choked with what Hermione could only assume was embarrassment, or possibly arousal. 

Hermione turned and looked back at Severus who was still lying on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm. She moved over to him and drew up his robe, draping it over his body. Such a simple gesture seemed to pull him from his recovery and in a moment he had pulled himself upright, slid the robe around his figure, and was perched on the edge of the bed, gazing hard at George Weasley. There was a long silence between the three of them.

“It is difficult to describe,” he began. “But for any wizard I can imagine that such pleasure would be profound.” He stood from the bed and moved over to the ledger. “They burst, only it isn’t an eruption but rather a dispersement, which as they glide up against the prostate upon entry is a stimulating sensation. When Miss Granger pressed that button it was like being electrified only with the jolt charged against the delicate nerve endings and focused at the prostate. And I believe as the beads burst they released a sort of lubricant to further stimulate both the prostate and the anal cavity to further assist in the ease of penetration.”

Only Severus Snape could make something so erotic and ecstatic sound so clinical and formal. She tried not to snort at the way he’d described the experience. She tried to imagine how she might have described such an experience. Of course she didn’t have a prostate and wondered if the sensations would have been pleasurable or just awkward given that they were designed to stimulate the male genitalia. She drew her robe around her tighter, noting that it had come loose, presumably when she’d climbed up onto the bed. “The handle feels nice,” she added, wishing to contribute.

George was scribbling so fast and so frantically that he’d managed to upend his pot of red ink again. But he didn’t stop to right it until the ledger was covered in his scarlet notes. When he looked up at Severus, he was still blushing. “So you’ll need a break then?” he asked.

She’d expected him to quip with sarcasm, but Severus only nodded his affirmation. He looked no worse for the wear. Hermione knew that it had taken a toll on him, and while they did have the Lustipops it was more than just his physical body that needed a break. She did not vocalize her opinion, but hoped that George would move onto something else in his menagerie of products rather than leaving them alone to order in dinner. She’d managed to keep most of her thoughts about their shower encounter at bay up to that point. But if she were left alone with him, she knew herself well enough to know that all bets were off. A sigh of relief crossed her lips when she watched George rise from his stool and move toward the box of products.

“Hermione, there’s loads of stuff in here, let’s have a look, shall we?” he said, motioning for her to join him.

Grateful for the distraction, she came over and peered down into the box. It wasn’t as frightening as some of the things she’d seen inside the box that was no doubt still upstairs in George’s bathroom. Cans and boxes and things of the like, but what caught her eye was the shiny green foil package. “Edible Funderwear?” she asked. Her brow creased in confusion as she turned the package over in her hands. It wasn’t very big. Hermione could not imagine how anything meant to serve as under garments could fit inside, let alone serve as anything that would properly cover the area underthings were meant to cover. “Do you have notes on these?”

She began to fiddle with the packing, which was a bit like foil, as George began to search through the ledger. By the time she’d managed a tiny tear, he’d found the page he was looking for. Her eyes grew wide when a handful of little undergarments tumbled from the torn packaging into her palm. “These are microscopic,” she exclaimed. Hermione laid them down on the table. Their texture was gummy, not unlike wine gums, only they were shaped very distinctively like brassieres, knickers, boxers, and two that looked very much like G-strings.

“What exactly are you looking at, Hermione? Fred has a good dozen or so different notes here…” George turned a page in the ledger. “I can’t tell what’s product, what’s hypothetical, and whether or not these are completed ideas or ideas he meant to complete.”

Hermione separated the miniscule gummy bits out as best she could. “Um, well…it looks like a brown bra and sharp cut knickers, then there’s what I’m guessing are boxer shorts in a blueish color, something that could be granny-panties or briefs in orange, and two separate…” she cleared her throat, feeling the blush in her cheeks. “Two diferent, erm— well, they look like G-strings…one is red and the other is white.”

“Okay…” George glanced through the ledger, flipping the pages back and forth. “Okay— um, the brown ones— I think this goes with those…” he shook his head and started scribbling with his quill pen. “Hermione, those two are a set. I think. Take your robe off, and swallow them. We’ll go from there.”

He never sounded fully certain when reading notes from Fred’s ledger, but when George issued those instructions she felt her stomach do a flip. It wasn’t as unnerving as what she’d just done with the anal wand, but given the potential for uncharted disaster, she hesitated. Her eyes shifted over to Severus, who was still seated on the bed. He did not return her gaze, but leaned forward slightly, eyes cast down in what she labeled his pensive look. She wondered what was plaguing his mind. When she could find no reason to prolong her hesitation, Hermione plucked up first the knickers and then the brassiere. She pinched them between her thumb and finger and swallowed them together. There was a faint taste of chocolate in her mouth.

“Are they meant to— oh!” she cried. A tingling shot through her body and it felt as if something was pressing through her insides. “This feels very odd.” There was more tingling and Hermione felt a most indescribable thing. The sensation of clothing growing outward from inside her skin prickled through her body. Her breasts were lifted and her legs parted. She gasped. “Oh my…” Hermione looked at her chest and down her torso. Much like the gummy had intimated, she was now sporting a lovely brown brassiere and pair of low-cut sassy knickers. “They’re— well— I’m not really sure.”

George waved at Severus. “Fred’s notes say chocolate, so if you’ll go have a taste…see how hard they are to remove with your tongue.” Hermione stood stone still, watching as Severus approached her. She had thought she’d tasted the faintest whiff of chocolate when ingesting them. “Oh, wait. Hermione, give us a wiggle and a walk, make sure they don’t slip off or fall apart.”

Doing as she was told, she took a tentative step forward. It was a strange sensation, the newly formed knickers cupping her body as she moved. They weren’t uncomfortable; the sensation of something a bit like latex rubbed against her skin. She moved her arms up over her head and then out to the sides. The bra stayed in place and she was impressed with just how fully the brown substance had lifted her breasts. She was not going to wiggle or shake her chest or her backside. “They seem okay, George.”

As she turned around she came face to face with Severus. Hermione felt her cheeks fill with heat. Even when she knew he was coming he somehow managed to sneak up on her. Exhaling with a shaky breath, she stepped back and nodded to him. Much like their first night in the workshop, he gently lowered his head and pressed his lips against the center of her right nipple. She didn’t gasp, she didn’t tremble; those sensations were becoming common practice for her. She’d learned to control herself somewhat, at least as far as the more basic responses were concerned.

His lips closed around her nipple and then she felt his tongue. Slow, deliberate swirls of his tongue moved outward from her nipple, over her areola, and fully around the under swell of her breast. The scent of chocolate grew stronger. She couldn’t help but groan as she exhaled. There was something about chocolate that always titillated her senses, even if she wasn’t’ the one eating it. She felt his hand cupping her other breast, his fingers trailing over and under the swell and around the side of her body. Her eyes were hooded with a hint of lust as she watched him lick his lips upon pulling back from her chest.

“It makes a mess,” he said, turning to George. “This appears to be like layering chocolate over her body in the shape of a bra and knickers. I imagine the knickers will be the same.”

“But does it taste good?” George glanced up from the ledger.

“It is palatable, Mr. Weasley, very much like chocolate.”

Hermione watched as he lowered himself onto his knees. She could feel the chill of the room against her skin where he had licked at the chocolate undergarments. A quick glance confirmed that it had smeared away a clearing, much like licking chocolate sauce from a lover’s body might do. His tongue at the top of her mound caught her off guard and she braced a hand on his shoulder to keep herself balanced. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Severus repeated his actions against her mound, trailing his tongue down between her legs until he was licking her folds. It was warm and sticky and Hermione’s legs trembled. She felt both of his hands on her hips. His fingers were gripping her flesh and tugging at her like he was trying to remove the chocolate panties. And had they been normal panties she imagined such a gesture might have worked. But all he succeeded in doing was creating little streaks in the chocolate that let her skin peak through its rich brown surface.

“Looks the same,” George said, turning his head back down into his ledger. “Wipe off, Hermione, and we’ll have you try the um— the…” he flipped a few pages in the ledger. “The red one. Fred’s written that the red G is for females and the white one for males. If we do that one before moving onto the other three— which he’s also noted are meant for males, does that give you enough of a rest, Severus?” A silent nod was his only response.

There was a moment of getting the remainder of the chocolate cleaned from her body. It wasn’t a complex task so much as it was a tedious one. When it became apparent that she could not reach her back to clear off the band of chocolate that had mimicked the bra’s band, she grunted her frustrations. Whether he was responding to her grunt or had intended to assist her regardless, Severus was quick to take the cloth from her hand and wipe away the remainder of the edible chocolate brassiere. She squeaked a bit as he moved the rag down between her cheeks, gliding outward with his palm to clean up the remainder of the matching knickers. Her mind was tricking her; he hadn’t lingered there the way she thought he had. Or had he? But she was presented with the little red gummy G-string, held up between his finger and thumb, before she could start to think about it.

She locked eyes with him. Hermione tried very hard for her mind not to be an open book. It was unnerving how readily he could read her, even if it was only half her fault for being so transparent. She parted her lips and allowed him to press the little red gummy into her mouth. It was bitter and her lips puckered as it touched her tongue. She swallowed it quickly. “That was— ugh, George. That tasted foul.”

“Foul how?”

Her nose scrunched, the after taste refusing to be so easily chased from her mouth. “Sour— but not in a good way. Like plastic fruit that has somehow gone sour.” Her words clunked over her tongue as she tried to force the taste out of her mouth. “I need water or something,” she said, coughing after a moment. There was a glass held to her lips only a moment after she’d asked for it; Severus’ hand held it just in front of her face. Sipping the water helped to ease the bitterness but did not chase the taste away completely. She sighed and gulped the remainder of the glass until only a hint of the sourness remained on her tongue.

Hermione glanced down her body expecting some repeat of what had happened with the brown chocolate gummies. Nothing happened. Her brow furrowed and she frowned. “I don’t feel anything,” she said. “I don’t see anything either, unless they’re invisible.”

Severus reached his hand forward and cupped her sex. He trailed his fingers up the crease where her thigh met her core and then fanned his palm out along the side of her thigh. “If they’re invisible they also lack texture of any sort.” He eyed her warily before bending down and pressing his lips just at the center of her mound. She closed her eyes and felt his tongue swipe down to her lips. Before she could even register the gesture he was once again standing. “And there is no discernable taste,” he added. “For all intents and purposes, Mr. Weasley, I’d say that particularly novelty is a dud.”

“Delayed reaction maybe?” she asked, fidgeting nervously from one foot to the other. She didn’t much favor the idea of moving on until they were certain she wouldn’t suddenly sprout a G-string made of overripe fruit. “Does it say what it’s meant to do, George? Or only that it was meant for women?”

“The red one says ‘Female G-String’ and that’s really all it says, I’m afraid.” He traced through the notes in the ledger again. “I think Severus is right. I think it’s a dud. Or unfinished. Or—” his eyes were suddenly wide.

“What? Or what, George?” Hermione’s voice rose half an octave when he paused. Whatever he’d discovered in the ledger was causing her stomach to twist in knots, and he hadn’t even read it aloud. “George? George!”

“Calm yourself, Ms. Granger. I do not think you are in direct peril,” said Severus. He nodded at George. “Mr. Weasley?”

“Sorry, sorry!” George was grinning ear to ear as he glanced up from the ledger. “They’re not all meant to work.”

“What?” Hermione was baffled.

“That’s why they’re called Funderwear. I think. I mean, I’m not certain, but this reminds me of that one product we scrapped back when we were tinkering around at Hogwarts. Gassy Grape-O’s. Some of them would give you massive puffs, while others were meant to be duds. The fun was in not knowing, so you could play a hopeful prank or take a few bets with your mates.” George paused, lost in a memory. “Only I think they never worked out because Fred kept trying to shape them like rings. He wasn’t very good at getting the formula to stay solid and they ended up all running together in their container. Not so fun if you have to chug a vial of runny grape liquid.”

Hermione stared at him. “Gassy Grape O’s?” she shook her head. “My goodness it’s no wonder you two were always in trouble.” She sighed and then wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling a bit self-conscious standing there naked with no product to show for it. No matter how much time she spent without her clothes on, she was certain she would never be comfortable being nude in front of an audience. She’d never had much confidence in her body nor had she ever considered herself to be attractive She knew she was passible, but not gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination. “You said the other three were meant for Severus, right?” she asked. But she didn’t wait for George to answer before she retrieved her robe and slipped into it.

“Yeah, Severus, take your pick. Fred’s notes are in no order whatsoever.”

Hermione watched Severus. There was very little involved as far as picking up one of the three remaining gummy undergarments. He’d selected the blue one that had been shaped like a pair of boxer shorts. Without preamble or hesitation it was in his mouth and gone from sight. She stood back, watching as he shrugged out of his robe, letting it drape back across the table. She hadn’t watched the chocolate undergarments appear on her person so much as she had felt them. It was intriguing to watch his skin tint a wild shade of blue and appear to bubble before sprouting a pair of boxer shorts that appeared to be covered in fine blue hairs.

“That looks…well…curious, I suppose,” she said and approached him. “Did it have a taste?”

“Sugary.”

“Right.” Hermione was careful as she bent down on her knees and rested in front of his thighs. Upon closer inspection she noted that the fine blue hairs were more like little strings and they smelled strongly like fairy floss. Closing her eyes, she leaned her lips forward and pressed them against the juncture of where his left leg creased his torso just on the outside of his thigh. There was a cloying sweetness that assailed her tongue when she licked the strings, her tongue dissolving through them straight to his skin. “Oh I think it’s meant to be strings of fairy floss.”

“Nifty.” George scribbled in the ledger without lifting his head to look at them. “Is it sticky once it’s dissolved?”

Hermione moved her lips along the crease of his leg in toward his cock. Her tongue licked a path through the blue strings and she frowned. “It does leave a sugary residue…” She licked the skin that had been exposed by devouring the strings, laving her tongue on his flesh until it was clear of the blueish sugary syrup that had trailed in her tongue’s wake. “Thankfully it doesn’t seem to tangle or stick much in his hair.” She added. Tilting her head up, she caught his eye. “I want to see if its gritty against your…” she blushed.

He gave the slightest shrug accompanied by a nod and Hermione set her focus on bringing her lips down the length of his cock. It was a valid reason for slipping his flaccid member into her mouth, even if she was motivated by a need that was anything but professional. Much as she had suspected, it was merely sticky and not at all grainy. There was a twitch of his cock as she rolled her tongue around him. And then she felt his hand on her shoulder. With as innocent a glance as she could muster, she gazed up at him, squeezing her lips ever so gently to keep his member in her mouth as she met his eyes.

“Do you reckon it’s too sticky for a proper blow? You don’t have to finish him, just give it a once or twice.” She heard George’s voice and her lips curled into a grin as she nodded her head. Directions to do what she’d already started doing only bolstered her confidence and she slid her lips down the length of his shaft with gusto, feeling his fingers grip her shoulder more firmly as she did.

Hermione swirled her tongue under and over his length. She knew that although he was tired from the whips that he was a virile wizard. He’d gone three or four rounds in the workshop before, even if it had been with the aid of the Lustipops. She was not surprised when she felt his length begin to harden, filling her mouth with his erection. Bobbing her head as she swirled her tongue around his tip, she tried not to get lost in pleasing him with her mouth. She was simply meant to be seeing if the fairy floss boxers were sticky, a notion of which Severus reminded her as he squeezed her shoulder again.

If he was going to stop her, she was going to make him use his words. With her lips pulled in tightly over her teeth, she began to suck him into her mouth with a steady bobbing motion accompanying her roving tongue. One hand braced his hip, feeling the fairy floss melt into sugary sap from the heat of her palm. She felt his body tremble as she slid her other hand between his legs, gently coating the melting fairy floss over his balls. Hermione felt bold in that moment and let his cock slide from her lips. It was something she had been curious about after playing with the Fluffer Nutter toy and the present moment was presenting her with the opportunity to test out her notion.

Severus cried out, a torn cry blissful and beautiful to her ear. Her lips were ensconced around his balls, managing to suckle them individually before drawing them into her mouth. Not really knowing what else to do, and not wanting to hurt him by moving her jaw too much, she eased his sac back and began to lick him in earnest. Again she drew her lips over her teeth and mouthed suckling his balls as she would his cock and it earned her the most delectable sound in response. If she thought he’d been holding her shoulders firmly before, she was certain he was going to dislocate them now.

“Severus, here,” she heard George’s voice through the strained cries and heavy panting of the man above her. She couldn’t see what George had given him or offered him, but she thought perhaps it was the last Jizz Juicer from the original compact of five. Knowing that it could take a while before he reached climax, Hermione allowed a wicked notion cross her mind.

Ever so slowly she drew her lips back from his balls, up over his shaft, and then back from his person entirely. She smiled at her handiwork; his cock was turgid, jutting up against his stomach. His flesh was all but cleared of the fairy floss strings in the places where she’d licked him, though she did note with a mostly disguised snicker that his cock was stained with hints of blue.

“If we wipe him off, we can try the orange one before he goes…” she said, glancing around for anything to slide under her knees. They were beginning to ache from the solid concrete of the workshop floor. “There’s still orange left, right?”

“And white.” The voice that spoke sounded as foreign from Severus Snape as she had ever heard it. Riddled with cracking restraint, peppered with brutally repressed lust.

“Oh! I forgot about that one, let’s do that one next since you’re…” she gestured.

“Severus, whichever, and then let her finish, I want to know what fifth flavor was in that compact.” George was once again on his stool, eyes turned down into the ledger.

The white G-string gummy was plucked from the table and held up in his fingers as she grabbed the cloth and the cleansing spray. Hermione pushed her hand hard in circles around his flesh. She was particularly thorough sliding her hand between his cheeks, grinning to his backside as he clenched and his legs trembled when she prodded just the slightest at his pucker. She knew it was risky, toying with him in such a way, but it thrilled her to do so.

When he was completely cleaned of the fairy floss, though a few little hints of blue still stained his skin, she moved around to the front of him and knelt down. His cock was still fully erect, hard and glistening with her saliva. She bit her lower lip, half from habit, half to draw his attention, and then waited for him to ingest the gummy. Like the blue one, it was gone before her eyes and almost immediately she noticed a stiff white peak encasing his erection. Little white puffs threaded around his waist. She moved to stand behind him, noting the way the puffs joined into one line and split his arse like a true G-string.

“It looks like whipped cream,” she said and then drew her finger forward, swiping up a bit of the puff on the side of his hip. “It smells like whipped cream,” she added. Hermione drew her finger to her lips. “Oh dear God. Blech!” she cried. “It does not taste like whipped cream.”

“What does it taste like, Hermione?”

She was hesitant to taste it again, but drew her finger through the whipped white puff nearest the front of his mound where it widened down into the G-string that covered his erection. Bringing it to her lips, she tasted the stuff again. Hermione puckered her lips. “Like egg custard. Or custard cream,” she said and then scrunched up her nose. “I was never a fan of either.”

“Does it taste alright, though? I mean— it’s not sour or what not?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just a bit jarring when you’re expecting whipped cream and then you get a taste of something you’re not overly fond of.” Hermione eyed the large puffy peaks that covered his cock. She swallowed hard and then drew her lips to his tip. “Though I imagine the texture will do wonders for a blow job.”

Both of his hands were suddenly on her shoulders, causing her to look up at him. He spoke not a word but she could read it in his eyes, a warning. He was on the brink, of that she was certain, but he would have to wait because she was not about to blow him to completion with the egg custard cream foam of the G-string coating him. Hermione drew his cock into her mouth. The foamy egg custard cream taste intensified while the foam itself melted away. She swallowed and recoiled just a bit; it tasted as bad as she had remembered. She tried not to let the taste bother her as she sucked his cock slowly in and out of her mouth. It did provide a fluffy lubricant of sorts as she continued to pull his length in and out.

“How does that feel, Severus?”

He squeezed her shoulders. Hermione looked up as she continued her deliberate bobbing motion. His eyes were screwed shut as she’d so often seen them when he tried to keep his desires and ecstasies in check during their work. She paused for a moment, letting her tongue rest against the tip of his erection. “Severus?” she asked, her voice pierced with mocking innocence, her words vibrating against his pulsing flesh.

“Exquisite,” he hissed. That was not a word she had heard him use in any capacity, let alone to describe the sensations of their product testing. Hermione pulled him in hard once more and then drew him back.

“Oh good,” George said. He sounded as enthused as if Severus had just brought in a copy of The Daily Prophet. “Can you hold out for the last one?”

“Not if Miss Granger keeps— aah,” he panted. She had slid her hand up between his legs once more. Fondling his balls with delicate pinches of her fingers, she continued to glide her lips up and down his length until two firm hands cupped her cheeks and effectively stilled her motions. “Stop,” he panted. “Or I won’t last through the last one.” He had reprimanded her. Though his voice was only stern and not angry, it was still enough to make her feel naughty. Hermione realized in that moment that she rather liked feeling naughty.

While she was completely prepared to pout, Hermione kept her eyes lowered and her face neutral as she gave his cock one final lick before resting back on her heels. She wasn’t given the chance to wipe him clean as Severus drew up the rag before she could get up off her knees. She watched the way he was tender with his motions; it spurred devious thoughts into her head. If he was so readily close then perhaps she wouldn’t have to truly work at it once he tested the orange briefs-shaped gummy. She liked working at it, but liked the prospect of tasting his release more, even if it would be tinted with what she hoped was a more pleasant flavor than the lemon had been.

Hermione’s mind was turning over the possibilities as Severus ingested the final gummy undergarment from inside the green foil pouch. Its effect was immediate and she found herself confronted with a garish pair of orange briefs. To say they were bright was the understatement of the century. She squinted and crinkled her nose looking at the way the texture appeared to wrap around his body. “It looks like an orange peel.” Pulling herself upright, she made a slow circle around his person. It looked like someone had gutted half of an oversized orange and slotted leg holes into the rind before sliding it up his body.

“Is it comfortable, Severus?” George had risen from his stool to take a closer look.

“It is snug, Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione noted that his erection was straining against the strange material, causing it to protrude in the front. She wondered if it tore the way an orange peel did and without thinking she brought her hands forward and began to tug at it. She was surprised that the material, if it could be called that, felt soft, though dimpled across the surface, almost like leather. It did not shred under her fingers even though she tried tugging on it a few more times. “This doesn’t seem to want to give,” she said. Placing both hands on his hips, Hermione tugged the briefs downward but they did not budge.

“Maybe you’ve got to lick them off? Or nibble them off?” George suggested, having returned once more to the ledger. His head was buried in the scribbles and squiggles that filled the green pages.

“Right,” she said and then returned to stand in front of Severus. Down on her knees, Hermione brought her lips to the edge of the orange material and licked her tongue over the outline of his erection. It felt odd; it felt like licking the surface of a golf ball. She frowned. “This doesn’t have a taste. Or at least not one that I can determine.”

There was a hesitancy about her as she parted her lips and brought her teeth over the edge of the garment. Closing her eyes and inhaling his masculine scent, which thankfully no longer contained the residuals of the egg custard cream or the fairy floss, Hermione nibbled ever so gently at the material. It came away in her mouth and began to melt against her tongue. “Ooh…” she whispered, a blush filling her cheeks. “That’s…oh my…”

“What? It’s what, Hermione?”

“George it’s…well I’m not really sure how to explain it. Almost like marzipan but also sherbet. It sort of melts against my tongue but only once I’ve bitten it off…” Hermione pressed her lips more firmly against the orange briefs and bite a section of it away. Severus hissed. For a moment she was worried that her teeth had scraped his cock, but realized that his hissing was a sign of pleasure as the room’s cool air rushed over his now partially exposed erection. “Oh this is lovely,” she murmured.

“So it’s really a novelty wrapping. A fun bout of foreplay if she’s got to chew threw his briefs before she can play with him.” George’s hand was a blur of white freckled flesh and splattered ink as he whizzed notes into the ledger faster than he could speak them. “Now that you’ve bitten a bit off, can you pull it the rest of the way?”

Hermione paused from savoring the delightful orange treat in front of her and placed both hands over the area she’d bitten free. Tug as she might, the briefs did not slide down from his body. “Oh that’s rubbish,” she muttered. “I’m afraid you have to it eat all…” she tried to hide her excitement at the prospect of having to nip and bite her way around Severus’ body by bowing her head, her eyes downcast.

Severus hands pushed hers away. “Surely, Miss Granger, you just need a bit of strength in your effort,” he said. His voiced was pinched, but not with the restraint of sexual frustration. He sounded annoyed. Hermione raked her eyes over his cock, he was still fully at attention. Perhaps he was fed up with raging at his peak without release. She watched as he tugged and pulled and pushed at the orange garment. And after another moment of watching him struggle she placed both her hands over his. He stilled his gestures and gazed down at her.

Her eyes were wide and very sincere in that moment. There was a silent exchange. There was a flicker in his eyes, and then he let his hands fall to his sides. He looked away from her. She chose to interpret it as his acceptance whether he intended it that way or not. Leaning her head forward she began to nip at the orange briefs once more. Little nuggets of vanilla crème blended with orange melted in her mouth as she nibbled away the garment. She was careful as she swept her lips over the little bit that still covered his erection, even more so as she bent her head between his legs. Hermione had to angle her neck and twist her entire body around as she began to tug the material with her teeth, freeing his balls. She heard him hiss and she smiled to herself, one hand gently caressing them as she continued her feast upon the orange crème delight.

Hermione nudged his thigh and he spread his legs further. This allowed her to crawl beneath him and work her way around the backside of the garment. She was tempted to nip his arse directly, but settled for trailing her tongue up the length of his crack. He groaned and when he did, she gave his balls another gentle squeeze. Although her mouth was preoccupied with devouring the orange briefs, one hand kept fondling him, the other kept a hold of his hip to keep her from falling over as she twisted her body about in every direction she could manage.

She’d worked her way around the right side of him, the garment almost nibbled out of existence, when she felt his hand tugging hard on her shoulder. His legs were shaking and she knew he was close. She slipped her hand around from between him and brought her body around in front of him. The tip of his cock was weeping and there was still a bit of orange clinging to the joint of his left thigh, but she would worry about that after he came. Slipping her lips over his tip, she teased his swollen head with a swirl of her tongue. The hand that had been cupping his balls stroked them and squeezed them in earnest. He groaned and she felt his hips push forward, bucking against her mouth as she drew him in.

It was sudden, but she managed not to inhale. Hermione’s mouth was flooded with his seed, and the heady tropical taste of coconut. His cock pulsed and she felt as if he were aiming to fill her entire body with his release. The hand that braced him against her shoulder was so heavy it was crushing her downward and Hermione struggled to stay upright as the last spurt of his cum dribbled into her mouth. Drawing back slowly, she licked her lips, and then nipped the last little segment of the orange briefs away from his skin.

Rocking on her knees for just a moment, she closed her eyes. Every time he came it lit a fire in her belly that blazed through her core and taunted her with carnal need. Tasting his cum, even if it was coconut flavored thanks to the Jizz Juicer, sent her head spinning. She took a moment to compose her thoughts, no longer caring how plainly they read upon her face or in her eyes. “Coconut,” she said after another moment in silence. “Definitely a delicious flavoring of coconut.”

“Coconut,” George repeated. “And you got all the orange off him?”

“Yes, George.” She said. Hermione slowly eased up off her knees and stood beside Severus, who had already donned his robe. She wasted no time, not wanting to give the man the chance to admonish her or blast her with one of his pointed stares. “So— more whips?”

“Yeah, we’ve still got two more? No. Three more? Yeah, three. Severus, grab a Lustipop and we’ll get going. I think I want to shoot for dinner after the last three if you can manage through those.”

There was the hint of a protest forming on Severus’ lips, she could see it in the way he twitched, but he said nothing. Perhaps his virility was stronger than she gave him credit for. Four times in such a short period of time, even with the assistance of the Lustipops was going to be pushing it, of that she was certain. In the tome he had given her there had been a brief section on sexual limitations. Though it was mostly geared toward witches and their fully awakened magical menses, there had been a few sentences about wizards and their sexual maturity. Even the most virile of wizards could seldom achieve more than four ejaculate orgasms in such a short period of time.

Hermione’s legs were stiff from kneeling, even though she hadn’t been down on them all that long. She was grateful for the opportunity to be standing once again. Severus stood by the bed, slowly shedding his robe and she moved to stand beside him, picking up the red silk. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked. His voice was level, he sounded like himself. He climbed onto the makeshift mattress and laid back, spreading his legs slightly. She tugged the ends of the ribbon and watched as they flew apart and worked their magic to hoist him up into the perfect paddling position. She wasn’t sure she would ever grow tired of watching that particular novelty trick, especially not considering the lovely view it provided her.

“Which ones are left, George?”

“Um…let’s see…” he flipped through the pages of the ledger pausing only when he’d found the descriptions of the Week of Whips. “There’s still Monday…and Wednesday and Thursday. Take your pick I don’t rightly care which one you use next, they all appear to have some sort of enchantment, and I’m not reading anything about release being a part of them, so we should be good.”

The whips were where she had left them, on the far side of the table opposite the bed. Hermione glanced over them, noting the ones she’d already used, trying to compare them to the ones that remained. The one in the fourth slot caught her eye over the other two. There was something about its bawdy orange-striped handle that screamed to be chosen. Sliding it from the plastic, she curled her fingers around the handle. Smooth fur tickled her palm. “This one is furry, at least the handle is…” The tails that protruded from the handle looked like slender strips of tiger’s fur. With a tentative stroke of her fingers, she traced the length of the tails. “The tails are furry too.”

“Which slot was it in, Hermione?”

“Oh! Um, one, two, three— four. The fourth slot. That’s Thursday, yes?”

George nodded his head. “Tigress Tails,” he read aloud. “Thursday will set your cat on the prowl with two dozen tiger tails to make you growl in delight. Simply flick and swish and it’s a night in the jungle for you and your lover.”

There was something about the description that made the little hairs at the back of Hermione’s neck stand on end. Perhaps it was the prowling and growling bit, but she suspected it was the very end part that had referenced having a night in the jungle. A Weasley idea was always a dangerous thing; introducing wild animals augmented the danger factor exponentially. With the handle gripped firmly in her fingers she took several steps toward the foot of the bed but stopped further back than she had with the previous whips. The tails of Tigress Tails were much longer than anything she’d yet wielded and she intended to give them ample space in which to work their enchantment.

It was different from the flogger she’d used, and the one he’d used on hers. She tried to think back to the unpleasant sting of the single whip. It had bit into her backside and actually hurt. She rationalized that the thing she held in her hand was different. The tails were many and made of a soft fur. Hermione twisted her wrist back and forth for a moment before pulling her arm back and lashing the whip tails forward with a sharp flick and swish motion. There was no crack that tore through the air as there had been when he had whipped her at Spinner’s End. But the room was suddenly filled with a growl. A growl that did not belong to Severus, or to anything sounding remotely human.

Hermione gaped at the lash marks that appeared across his arse. They weren’t bleeding but they looked deep and angry. She gasped as they began to darken, hastening in color from red to black. They looked like tiger stripes. “Oh dear…” she said. She chewed her bottom lip and turned to George. “Keep going?” The redhead nodded. Again she drew back her arm, and when the tails connected with his backside the room was once more filled with a growl. It was the distinctive growl of a jungle cat. It wasn’t until she whipped him a third time that she realized the tails were enchanted to growl.

She’d managed to crisscross his backside with tiger stripes, the black jagged patterns creating a strange look on her arse. When she worried his cheeks could withstand no more, she let the whip rest at her side. “Does it feel different?” she asked. Hermione took a timid step toward him, half expecting the stripes on his bum to lunge up from his skin and transform into an actual tiger. She laid her palm flat across his left cheek, noting the way he shuddered and hissed as she did. The stripes were not raised nor did they bare the texture of fur. It was merely an illusion or an inky enchantment designed to spice up the aesthetic of the process.

“That particular whip was like furry claws grating across my arse,” he spat. “If you’re through with it, I’d be much obliged to get on with the next one.”

The contradiction in his description befuddled her, but she didn’t say a word. Hermione returned the Tigress Tails to their slot in the roll of whips and plucked up the one that rested atop it. A crop, simple in design and almost identical to the one he had used on her during her lesson. The tip was an ordinary square of leather, nothing remarkable to note on it, not even so much as a unique color. “This one is Wednesday, I think, it was just above Thursday.”

“Wednesday…Wednesday…Wed— ah…Wednesday…” George scanned the ledger. “Wednesday’s Wonky Whacker. Seven slaps or seven whacks, this crop delivers true, with each new slap and each new whack, a surprise is waiting for you.”

Hermione tried not to giggle at the rhyme. She knew that it meant trouble because as Weasley surprise was twice as dangerous as a Weasley idea. Presumably she would need to use the crop seven times, if whatever enchantment was ordered to cycle through the seven different surprises. She turned the slender handle over and over in her palm. “Should I just start right out then?” she asked. The fact that Severus’ face remained obscured from her sight by his drawn up legs caused her a rush of relief. She was certain that he would be glowering at her uncertainty or at the very least frowning at the product’s description. A crop, however mysteriously enchanted, needed a firm but delicate hand with staunch wrist motion and above all she had to remember to alternate cheeks.

Without waiting for George, who had turned his attentions to fiddling with the position of his stool, she stepped up and placed her hand against the underside of his thighs. For a moment he tensed, but when she let her hand linger he seemed to calm. The rich black stripes from the previous whip had already begun to fade, though in places he still looked a bit like he was wearing skin-tight flesh-tone tiger striped briefs. Hermione traced her fingers down his thigh and tapped the pads of her digits against his arse.

“Get on with it, Miss Granger.” His voice called to her. With a sheepish look she leaned around his legs and peaked at him. His eyes were closed, his head tilted to the side. She allowed herself a glance down the length of his body and noted that his cock was only half hard. She wondered if the crop would arouse him more fully, or if he’d been at attention and the time between stopping with the Tigress Tails and now had been long enough of a period to allow him some slack. But she didn’t wish to keep him or George waiting any longer.

Standing much closer to his backside than she had been with the whip of tiger tails, she held the crop firmly and slapped it hard against his left cheek. An enormous wet tongue sprung forth from the leather square as it made contact with his skin; the squelching sound of a tongue slapped against his arse now reverberated through the workshop. She was stunned watching the oversized tongue give his backside a thorough lick before it vanished in a puff of pink smoke, leaving the crop as it had started. “Good grief,” she muttered.

“Was that a— a tongue?” George asked, his eyes wide with incredulity.

“It felt like a tongue,” Severus growled.

Hermione tried not to snicker. She was relieved that it was not her arse being paddled with a giant slurping tongue, but that relief was not enough to keep her from finding the situation very amusing. With a steadying breath she drew back her hand but hesitated before flinging it forward. The description had said seven different slaps would result in seven different surprises. “That was one,” she said.

“One what?” asked George. Then he blushed. “Oh, right. Yeah. One. And six more, right?”

She nodded and drew back her arm once more. A quick snap of her wrist had the crop slamming forward, this time against his right cheek. Just as it had with the tongue, as the leather square neared his flesh, it suddenly transformed. Dozens of little hands surged forward from the crop’s face and began to drum a rapid rhythm across his backside. As quickly as they had appeared was as quickly as they vanished with a puff of green smoke. “Oh my goodness,” she couldn’t keep the giggle from her throat. “I wonder if each— erm…each thingy has a different color of smoke too?” She felt foolish for not being able to find a better word than thingy.

“That’s a nifty addition I guess. The smoke isn’t scented or anything is it?” George flipped back a page in the ledger. “I didn’t read anything about smoke.”

“Not in so far as I can tell.” Again she found herself peeking around the side of his legs, gazing at him. She bit her lower lip. He was still only half erect and she wondered if his body was spent or if this strange prankish sort of spanking simply wasn’t doing it for him. She wasn’t entirely certain that she would have found it pleasurable had she been the one roped up into the red silk. Again she placed a hand on the back of his thigh; it was a bold gesture but she felt sure of herself in that moment. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“Fine, Miss Granger,” he waved his hand at her, but she noted with just the tiniest grin that he kept his eyes closed. It must have unnerved him greatly to be trussed up as he was and have to look her in the eye. Or perhaps it disgusted him. She tried not to dwell on the latter of those two thoughts. Realizing that once again her mind was getting the better of her, she stepped back and focused on crop in her hand. There were still five more mystery enchantments that required five more slaps to his arse. She discovered that wielding the mysterious crop was not as heady a task as the ones that had demanded release or were of a simpler variety. Perhaps this one was too novel, at least for her tastes.

A third solid whack sent a flurry of feathers sweeping over his backside and she watched in awe the way he twitched and twisted, despite the restraints, trying to escape their airy touches. Hermione pursed her lips. “Severus, are you ticklish?”

He said nothing, but released a groan of sorts when a long slender feather slipped between his cheeks, wriggling about causing him to tremble. Hermione could not believe her eyes. She made to snatch up one of the feathers but it dissipated into a puff of smoke the moment she touched it. A ticklish Severus Snape was not a notion she could readily reconcile in her mind with the man she had come to know. She tucked that pearl of wisdom away for later and thoroughly intended to readdress it once they’d returned to Spinner’s End. There were a great many things she intended to address when the evening was finished. Her mental checklist was nearly a foot long.

When Hermione drew back the crop the fourth time she yelped when a small wave of icy blue liquid tumbled out over the head of it and rushed down his body. He cried out and she raced to his side. “Sorry, are you alright?”

“Fine.” His teeth were clenched, his eyes screwed tightly shut and she noted that he was now at full attention.

“What was that, Hermione? Water? Ice? Ink? I couldn’t really see…”

“I don’t really—”

“It felt like ice water,” Severus growled. “Please get on with the final three, Miss Granger, my legs are growing tired.”

“Sorry, Severus,” she muttered. Though it was most likely true, given the way his legs were restrained by the silk, she doubted very much that it was the only reason he wanted her to get on with it. Knowing what he was capable of in regards to expression it dawned on her in that moment how intense of an effort he put forth to keep himself restrained from howling and growling and thrashing about as pleasure shook through his body. If being spanked and restrained or tickled and teased was in fact a turn on, she almost pitied him for the way he refused to enjoy himself. “Right…three more…” she said after a moment’s thought.

The fifth smack had Hermione all but jumping out of her skin as two enormous hands emerged from the crop’s head. They seized his cheeks, one in each hand, and began to massage him with a tremendous force. It lasted only for a moment and just as the hands vanished in a puff of black smoke she watched them drag their oversized nails down over his arse. Not wishing to linger on such an image she quickly applied the crop again, disappointed when it appeared to remain an ordinary crop. “Maybe he only got five? Or whatever the sixth enchantment is meant to be…it’s a dud…”

“Well see if there is a seventh and then I can figure it out from there. I wonder if it’s a one-time use sort of deal?”

Hermione tapped the crop against his left cheek, ending where she started, and squeaked as it transformed into a several long coils of beads which rapped themselves hard against his backside. A puff of glittery gold smoke erupted as the coils disappeared and she began to cough. Waving her hand frantically to clear the smoke, she was surprised that the head of the crop had disappeared entirely. In its place was a small wire clip, attached to which was a single square of parchment.

Thank you for purchasing Wednesday’s Wonky Whacker. We do hope you enjoyed your whacking! Happy fucking! Messrs. F & G Weasley.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous note. “George you need to read this,” she laughed. Walking over to where he sat, she pointed the head of the crop to him. But it was Severus’ irritated cry that drew her attention.

“Would you get me down?” he snarled.

Hermione dropped the crop over the ledger and rushed back to the side of the makeshift bed. “Oh goodness! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Less prattling and more untying,” he narrowed his eyes at her.

Hermione huffed. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.” When his pointed glare did not abate, she rolled her eyes and retrieved her wand. Untangling the silks, she eased his legs onto the bed and then rested one hand firmly on his left hip. “You’re awfully testy.” Her eyes searched his and for a moment she saw a world of things floating there. But like so many of their moments it was gone in a flash. He waved her off, pushing her hand from his figure as he sat up. His cock was still hard, but not weeping and begging for release. Severus slid his arms into his robe.

“You try being bound up in that absurd position without release for nearly an hour,” he added and then stood from the bed. “Mr. Weasley, what else have you deigned to torture us with this evening?”

George snorted. “Ease up, Severus. That’s all the whips and paddles for now, honest. There were a set of printed ones that I remember seeing when I first started sorting things but for the life of me I can’t seem to find them.”

“Thank Merlin for your organizational skills,” Severus muttered.

Hermione moved to stand beside him, deliberately letting their bodies touch, and she was surprised when he did not jerk and recoil. “Maybe a break? For everyone? Dinner or just a breather?”

George nodded. “Suppose I can’t starve my employees,” he smiled, trying to lighten the dour mood that seemed to have settle over the workshop. “Head up to my flat and I’ll pop down and get some food.”

Hermione nodded and walked with George to the door. “Take your time, yeah? I think he’s having his monthly,” she smirked. It was a quiet exchange whispered against the redhead’s ear and George snickered.

“Alright, Hermione, just don’t let him get to you. As much as he’s changed and all…he’s still Snape. Watch out, I’ll bet he bites,” he teased and then slipped out the workshop into the shop.

She was not surprised that Severus was already up the stairs and halfway into George’s flat when she turned around. She drew her robe tightly around her, took the stairs two at a time, and chased after him. “You were right rude just now,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Miss Granger, I do not wish to hear your incessant—”

Hermione marched over to where he stood just beside the empty hearth, squared her jaw, stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a firm finger against his lips, which confusingly but effectively silenced him. “And I don’t wish to be dismissed. You can be callous and sarcastic and bitter and all of those things, I’ve dealt with those traits for years. You can even be cheeky and mysterious and broody. But I won’t tolerate you being rude.”

She narrowed her eyes at him when he continued to glare back at her. If it was a staring contest he wanted, she’d give her best effort, though she doubted she’d last long against his blazing smolder filled with unreadably dark emotions. She was surprised when after a moment he took the finger that she’d left pressed on his lips and gently moved it down from his face. Severus sighed. “You’ve put me on edge, but you are right, that is no reason to be rude.”

This confession startled her. “I’ve put you— how do you mean?”

It was a disquieted snort; the sound that left his lips was coupled by another heavy sigh. He stepped back from her and turned his back to the hearth. She watched his eyes travel from the lone chair to the sofa. When he settled into the sofa she had to bite her tongue to keep from exclaiming her surprise. Hermione was cautious as she approached him, eyeing him like a wild creature as she moved to sink down into the sofa beside him. He didn’t flinch as her leg brushed his, and he didn’t pull back when she leaned toward him. “Can you elaborate? I don’t mean to put anyone on anything and if it’s something that I’m doing—”

“Aside from being yourself?”

Hermione frowned. “Severus…I know that last night—”

This time it was his finger on her lips. “This is not the time or place for that.” He said. His voice was stern but it lacked the cautionary warning that such reprimands often carried.

“But you do intend to discuss it?” she asked, her lips moving despite his finger being pressed against them.

“Do I have a choice as far as you’re concerned?” he asked. He sounded exasperated.

She sighed. “No, you don’t. But let me save us both the trouble. It was a moment, you were caught up, I was caught up, and I shouldn’t dwell on such moments. From such moments come other moment and you shan’t have that. Am I close?” she huffed.

Severus rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be melodramatic, Miss Granger.”

“I’m not being melodramatic! I’m being serious! Severus, last night— you— we— I mean you were there!”

She huffed again with indignation when he snorted. “That I was, Miss Granger. As were you.” He paused for a moment, gazing hard into her eyes. “I should know better than to think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that you’ll simply let it go.”

“Not on your life,” she snapped. Severus sighed. His fingers formed a steeple in front of his face and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was something strangely familiar about that gesture. It was one she’d seen several dozen times throughout her days at Hogwarts. A secretive, gesture of internal comfort that he provided himself with whenever the situation became to trying for polite words. Hermione frowned. Was he struggling as much as she was with finding words to explain their involvement in the shower? She doubted it. But then a much worse thought struck her mind.

“Why do I even need to speak on the matter if you’ve already drawn up every possible scenario in your mind?”

His words startled her. “You shouldn’t read my mind,” she crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

“You shouldn’t presume that I’m reading anything more than what’s plainly written across your face.” He paused and then brought his hand to cup the side of her jaw. She inhaled sharply feeling the heat of his palm make contact with her skin. “Your features are expressive…more so when you’re overthinking, Miss Granger.”

It took every ounce of strength Hermione possessed not to tilt her head into his hand. She longed to feel his caress. He touched her and he touched her often, and even the previous night in the shower their bodies had been pressed together and intimately intertwined. But the way he held her cheek was tender, a lover’s touch that was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Snippets of their foregone conversations flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes and slowly reached her own hand forward, letting it rest atop his thigh. “You once told me I mistook you in thinking that you did not crave touch.”

“Your memory is a regular pensieve.” 

“Did you not say that?” she asked, slowly opening her eyes. She was met with his gaze. There was silence between them. No crackling flames in the hearth to distract them, no running shower, or George appearing unannounced, simply silence. She tilted her head slightly, nudging against his palm. If she remained silent they could easily stay in that position until George returned. But she needed answers; she craved them beyond all logical necessity. “I think you do want me, Severus.” She whispered.

She’d expected his hand to retract. She’d expected him to speak and contest her emotional sentiment. She’d expected a great number of things. But when he bowed his head slightly forward, and closed his eyes, she found herself dumbstruck. How was she meant to interpret such a gesture? Her fingers crept up his thigh until her hand hovered over the bulge in his robes. She’d felt him harder, but there was no denying he was still somewhat aroused from their experiments in the workshop. She let her palm rest over his cock but the moment she did his hand was atop hers, pulling it away.

“No.”

It was a simple enough word. Hermione was crestfallen. She felt a heavy weight drop dead in the center of her chest. She could feel the pricks of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Rejection was one thing, but hearing it so plainly from Severus Snape after everything that had happened was quite another. Her mind raced; how would she continue to live there knowing that he’d rebuked her? How would it effect their work with George?

“Merlin, you’re going to drive me mad.” Severus reached forward and tilted her chin up until she was forced to look at him.

“But— me? I’m going to drive you mad?” she all but cried. “You just said—”His finger landed hard on her lips. They shared a look and Hermione wasn’t sure if she was more hurt or more confused. His lips twitched just the slightest, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a—”

“Watch your tongue, Miss Granger. I’m liable to wash it with soap if you keep slinging insults.”

“But you just said—”

Again he brought his finger to her lips. “I’m going to get duct tape if you don’t stop talking.” His voice was heavy and for a moment she believed he was serious. When she swallowed hard and held her lips firmly together, he continued. “I said no, Miss Granger, because I am not having you work me up here in Mr. Weasley’s flat. Aside from the obvious things wrong with that scenario, I’ve gone quite enough in these last few hours and given your current condition, the remainder of tonight’s product testing will require me to go a few times more, a task which I shall find nigh impossible if I let you have your way here and now.”

It was the longest series of sentences she’d ever heard him utter in one breath. But she couldn’t take it all in before her mouth was leaping ahead of her mind. “So you weren’t rejecting me?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Miss Granger…” he shook his head and then sighed. “You will be the death of me.”

“That doesn’t sound like no…” Her words brought on a glare from him. She blushed but did not look away. They sat in silence for a few moments more before her inquisitive mouth got the better of her. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I say no will it stop you from asking?”

It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please, Severus, I’m asking an honest question.” When he didn’t protest further she took it as her cue to continue. “Why did you change your mind?”

“Don’t be so sure that I have…” his eyes raked over her figure before settling on her face. “When two individuals copulate, if there is physical attraction and the sex is enjoyable they are bound to do it again. Resisting temptation only serves to exacerbate sexual tension. You are not unattractive and seem to have found yourself attracted enough to me.” He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I was bound to slip up, Merlin knows you’re tempting enough.”

She wasn’t sure she liked his explanation. She wasn’t sure she understood his explanation. But at least he had spoken, and although they hadn’t really discussed what had happened in the shower at Spinner’s End, she felt she had a sense of clarity with him for the briefest of moments, even if it was still mostly muddied. She would chew it over, analyze it, and ruminate upon it until she could do so no more, but that wouldn’t happen until later. There was no sense in wasting time on it in George’s flat as he was likely to pop through the door at any moment with their dinner.

Hermione leaned her head forward and it rested against Severus’ shoulder. He didn’t push her off but he didn’t make to shrug out from beneath her either. There was a slight shift of his hand and she felt him rest his fingers just atop her thigh. A gesture, albeit miniscule, that spoke volumes in his voice’s absence. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. “I wish he would hurry up,” she whispered.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A bit, I guess. But really I just want to get back down into the workshop. The sooner we finish up, the sooner we can leave.”

Severus snorted. “Do not think that because I’ve mistakenly opened Pandora’s Box that you’re going to be chatting with me through all hours of the day and night or snuggling up in my bed, Miss Granger.”

Hermione scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Severus. Your bed is much too small for snuggling.” She sighed. There was truth in his statement. He’d admitted to being physically drawn to her and little else, but for the moment she could accept that for what it was and she would test the waters as they came. She was certain that things would get rockier before they got smoother, but at the very least she had a sense of direction in which to be headed regarding her housemate. “Do you like snuggling?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Okay! Got chips! And grilled chicken and salads and things!” George burst into his flat with all the errant grace of a giraffe at the ballet. “Let’s see— and shakes, always shakes,” he added, setting three enormous milkshakes down onto the coffee table. Three steaming bags of chips accompanied several containers of chilled salads and boxes of savory grilled chicken. “Hope you both had a chance to rest, Severus, are you feeling any better?” he asked cautiously.

“Fine, Mr. Weasley.”

George’s sudden entrance had put a stop to their physical closeness. While she hadn’t leaped apart from him like a guilty lover trying to hide her affections when her husband entered the room, she had lifted her head and noticed that he’d pulled back his hand from her. Their meal was enjoyed mostly in silence. Occasionally George would make a comment about other products he knew they had yet to test or new ideas that he was formulating based on other things he’d read in the ledger. She tried not to make it obvious when she stole glances at Severus. It was disheartening that she failed to catch his eye. Her mind was asunder with everything that had happened in such a short period of time.

Was he inviting casual intimacy between them? He had not denied craving touch or finding her attractive. But he’d also cautioned her against snuggling and chatting. If he meant to use her for sexual recreation he wouldn’t have held off as long as he had. And there were certainly other options as far as that was concerned. She couldn’t wrap her head around it and she longed to discuss it further. What few words they had exchanged had only served to add fuel to her curious fire. But her racing mind would have to wait. All too quickly their dinner had finished and George was cleaning up, ushering them back down to the workshop.

The three of them approached the box of miscellaneous products. George sighed. “One night I think we’ll take a break from testing…and set to organizing all of this stuff. There’s still the box up in my bathroom with all the water stuff, or at least all the stuff I’d found that I thought was water related. This box here, the two big hat boxes, and a few other boxes that I’ve come across…it might be ideal to try and have some sort of working order…” he trailed off.

“Might I suggest, Mister Weasley, given Miss Granger’s current state and the sheer exhaustion factor of this evening’s earlier activities that we set about doing that for the remainder of tonight?”

“He’s got a point, George.” Hermione added.

“I don’t see why not, but Severus, I’d like you to give one more thing a go…I’ve got a new flavor of LustiPop you can test too.” George moved to the far side of the workshop and returned with one of the Lustipops in his hand. It was a garish shade of orange, not unlike the orange edible briefs, and it still resembled a cock. “Orange and choc,” he said with a grin and handed it to Severus.

Severus rolled his eyes and Hermione turned around so that he wouldn’t see her smirk. The Lustipops were a point of contention every time they had come into play. She wasn’t sure if it was more irritating to Severus that they were cloyingly sweet and often in the most heinous of flavors, or that he loathed sucking on a phallic lollypop to get him hard. Hermione didn’t envy him either way.

“What are you going to have him test?” she asked.

“Well…” George looked sheepish and uncertain. “I’m going to have you test it. Thoroughly, actually,” he said. Those words made Hermione’s stomach crawl. She watched George as he popped open what appeared to be an ordinary tube; the lone contents of which appeared to be a shriveled raisin. He gestured to Severus. “Are you…” he rolled his hand and nodded at his waist. Severus only nodded. Hermione couldn’t tell from the way he stood and how his robe was situated, but she doubted very much he would say he was ready to go again if he wasn’t. “Okay, great. Take your robe off and get comfy, either over on the bed, up on the table, or on the stool, whatever you like.”

“Comfy for what, Mister Weasley?” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hermione needs access to you…as she’s going to test this out.”

“George, what exactly is that?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “It looks like a raisin.”

The blush that filled George’s cheeks did nothing to quell the nerves that were already tangling in her stomach. “This is an anti-boner sweet. Truly peevish and utterly prankish, but if it works, well…the name should make it pretty obvious.”

“George!” Hermione cried.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the redhead. “That is a foul product you’re tinkering with, Mister Weasley.”

George sighed. “Come off it, Severus. You know as well as I that it’ll sell like mad. It’s only temporary, a few hours at most. But it’ll be worlds of fun for anyone who’s out to ruin a perfectly good night of fun. Think about someone who’s having an affair or something of the like. Or if you’re competing with a mate over a girl…or a bloke…”

Severus pursed his lips. “Cruel…” he shook his head. “But you are correct when you say it will sell. That sort of tawdry market always has customers.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Hermione frowned.

“Miss Granger, the simplicity of this product should be clear to even your overworked mind—”

“Hush, Severus. I know what it’s designed to do. What I don’t understand is why you need me— or even how you need me to test it.” She refused to look at him in that moment, fussed that once again he’d managed to insult her with his words.

“I want to make sure it works, Hermione.” George handed the dark colored tablet to Severus.

“I would think it would be pretty obvious if it worked, he’s quite hard at the moment, if he takes it and suddenly he’s not hard, it should prove itself.”

“Well, yes…” George’s lips quirked to the side. “But I want to see how long it lasts. I mean I won’t have you trying to get him aroused for hours…but at least give it a good effort to make sure it’s not just a deflating charm or short-lived.”

His words clarified the situation, but did not put her mind at ease. She looked with questioning eyes at Severus, who was still scrutinizing the product with narrowed eyes and a firm scowl on his lips. “So you’ll want me to…try my best then?” George nodded. “Alright.” Hermione looked once again at Severus. “Do you want to be on the bed?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It makes no difference to me. If this thing works as intended, then your efforts should be for naught regardless of where I situate myself.”

“Right. Well, the bed, then. I can maneuver on it if I need to try a few different things.”

“Fred’s original notes said it should provide three to four hours of dysfunction. So if after a good thorough testing it does as intended, we’ll settle into organizing. By the time we finish separating and categorizing the effects should have worn off, and we can test it with something simple, and then call it a night. I know it’ll be late than usual, but I don’t’ mind it if you two don’t.”

“I suppose that’s alright,” said Hermione. Severus remained quiet. She knew that if he were going to mind it he would speak up. And when he didn’t, she nodded over to the bed. “Let’s get you— on second thought…George how long before it’s supposed to take effect?”

“Immediately, I think.”

She looked at Severus. “Are you going to take it?”

Without further commentary, Severus swallowed the raisin-like pill, pulling his robes back just enough to bare his erection. As George had predicted, his cock was already beginning to soften, taking just another moment to settle into a completely flaccid state. “Well that’s a good start,” George said. “Do you feel any different? Numbness? Tingling?”

“No, Mister Weasley.”

Hermione drew her robe around her figure a bit more tightly as she watched him walk over to the bed. There was something pitiable about his naked figure exposed and limp, but she pushed that thought from her mind. The last thing she needed was to drag emotions into the work; things were complicated enough with all that had already been brought up that evening. She took a moment to compose herself, and then moved over to her clothes and fetched her wand. “Give him that Lustipop again, George. Let’s be thorough. That first and then I know there are a few spells that are meant to— well I suppose I don’t know that they’re actually going to work, I’ve only read about them, but it’s worth a try even if they are rubbish spells, right?”

“Good thinking, Hermione. I figured you’d just work with your hands and your mouth, or whatever. But that’s actually really clever. Go for it.”

She swallowed hard. She had seldom heard girls tittering in the dormitories back at Hogwarts about such spells, but she knew they existed. There had never been a reason to research such things. Though her sexual involvement with Ron had always been dissatisfying for her, he had never had a problem with being erect and ready to go when he wanted sex. Hermione closed her eyes trying to think if she had ever read about such spells. Once during a medical malpractice case that had been brought against St. Mungos and she had been doing interoffice research for, but her brain was fuzzy on the details. “George do you have a copy of— oh nevermind,” she muttered. Asking George Weasley if he had a copy of any textbook was like asking her housemate to open up about his emotions, hell would sooner freeze over before either became a reality.

“Hmm?” She noted that he had taken his place at the stool with the ledger book. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, fine,” she sighed and turned to look at Severus. He was seated on the edge of the bed, eyeing her. “You don’t know any of those spells, do you?”

“Do I look as if I’d have a reason to know them, Miss Granger?” he asked.

“Do I?’ she countered. It brought a smile to her lips to see him smirk just the slightest.

“Regardless,” he said after a moment. “If this isn’t going to thwart his little concoction,” he said shaking the orange Lustipop, “I very much doubt that any of those spells will. They’re mostly rubbish. Half-baked ideas and attempts at spells created by desperate young wizards who are too embarrassed to seek out proper treatment for their inability to perform sexually.”

There was an answer for everything when it came to Severus, though she couldn’t deny that as usual, he was probably right. She recalled having great difficulty finding origins in print for those spells during that particular trial and if what he had just said was true, she could now understand why it had been such a task. “The Lustipop then?” she said and waited. Hermione watched as he sucked the phalli lolly into his mouth. Her eyes shifted down his torso, watching the way his cock rested limp just in his lap. But after several moments, nothing happened.

“Well, George, so far so good. The Lustipop did nothing. And we’re passing on the spells since Severus nor I can seem to remember how they go.” She smirked when Severus glowered at her, knowing full well that he would not correct her despite the fact that she had purposefully misspoken. “I’m going to try a few other things…time me?”

“Yeah, sure, Hermione. Be thorough. If this works…” he was scribbling in the ledger, half distracted as always.

Hermione stood in front of him for a moment, thoroughly prepared to drop to her knees and take him into her mouth, but then an idea struck her. “Stand up, would you?” she asked. He didn’t hesitate and within a moment was standing just in front of her, their bodies pressed closely together. “Turn around,” she added. As Severus moved to turn, she slipped out of her robe. “And close your eyes,” she whispered. With his back now facing hers, she took a step forward and pressed her naked chest against his back. Arms encircled his figure and she let her hands come to rest just below his navel. She pressed her lips gingerly at the center of his back, just below his shoulder blades, slowly letting her fingers tease the curls of his pubic mound.

While hers had still not regrown, he had never been completely shorn of his and the wiry thatch of hair served as a good starting point for teasing him into an aroused state. The closeness of their bodies and the heat of her skin pressing into his made her own core tremble and she only hoped that it was doing the same for him. Seldom had the occasion called for them to be pressed so closely together, and never yet had she been the one behind him. Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating on letting her fingers glide downward until she had one hand cupping his balls and gently rolling them in her palm while the other idly stroked his length. It was strange feeling his cock without a response.

Her lips trailed down between his shoulder blades, circling over to the side of his body as she slid beneath his arm and turned him around so that she was now facing the front of him and his backside was to the makeshift bed. Hermione kept one hand stroking slowly and evenly against his cock; the other hand still fondling his balls as she leaned her lips against his torso. She felt his body tense when she traced her tongue over his left nipple and she paused only a moment to glance up at him. His eyes were closed, his head bowed forward, and she noted that he was breathing just the slightest bit heavier than he had been before.

She slid her hand further under him, letting her fingers slide away from his sac, one finger stroking deliberate circles around the taut ring of muscles that she knew brought him a great deal of stimulation. There was a gasp, soft and sudden, but it did nothing for his flaccid member still warm in her other hand. Her lips suckled at his nipple, grazing it slightly with her teeth and it earned her another gasp. She’d never been so bold and daring with a lover before. Their interactions in the workshop had not allowed for such exploratory gestures, and what had happened in the shower had been mostly driven by him. She tried not to think of Ron while letting her lips roam over his chest.

Nudging her finger up, she pressed into him, feeling the tight heat of him envelop her digit. His body stiffened against her and she felt him brace himself against her hip. “Anything?” she whispered against his skin but she knew the answer. She could feel that he was still limp in her hand. His breathing was heavier then, her finger curling inside of him to tickle at his prostate. She trailed her lips down his torso, nipping and licking his skin as she went. With only a slight wobble, she dropped onto her knees and wrapped her other hand around his backside giving him a firm slap on his cheek.

She closed her eyes and pressed a delicate kiss against the tip of his cock. Pulling his length into her mouth she began to bob her head back and forth as she worked him over with her tongue. She slapped him again, this time a bit harder, her finger still penetrating him, while she swirled her tongue around his shaft. Severus grunted, his hips rocking forward, and she paused her ministrations, long enough to let his cock slip from her mouth. “Can you still feel—”

“Everything,” he groaned, rolling his hips forward, as if the sudden loss of her mouth was excruciating torture. Hermione bit her lower lip for only a moment before she brought her lips once more around his cock. Careful swirls of her tongue under his shaft and at the joint of his head where she recalled him saying he was sensitive, had him once again arching his hips at her face. But there was nothing for it; his cock remained flaccid, not a hint of erection to be seen.

“Can I try something else?” she offered, her own voice laced with a tremor that she hadn’t expected. He only nodded, but she saw his response just the same. She was careful as she eased her finger out of him, slapping his backside once more for good measure, before she pulled herself to her feet and pushed him backward onto the bed. He fell, though somehow managed to do so gracefully, and before he could sit upright or situate himself, Hermione crawled atop him and began to rock her sex over his center. It was a forceful grinding motion, a bit like the way she’d once given Viktor Krum a lap dance. Only she’d felt the exact affect her body had had on the Bulgarian.

Hermione could feel her own body’s frustrations working against her and she reprimanded herself. She was meant to be arousing him, not working toward her own release. Both hands gripped his shoulders and with some effort she pulled him up toward her. He complied, wrapping both arms around her until she was astride his lap, still grinding and rocking against him. She cupped his cheeks and pulled their faces together. Lips met lips and she kissed him. A hard, passionate kiss that had her tongue snaking into his mouth, all the while her body writhing in his lap. He was panting and she was too, their chests rising and falling against each other as they sat huddled in a tight embrace.

“Nothing?” she panted, breaking their kiss her fingers winding into his hair. She raked her nails gently back over his scalp and earned a grunt of pleasured frustration from him. Hermione loathed George Weasley and his anti-boner prank candy in that moment. She brought her lips to the side of his neck, suckling and nipping at his flesh and she felt his fingers thread into her wild messy hair. Severus bucked his hips upward against hers, and for the world it felt as if there were sparks of sex between them. Only he wasn’t erect and penetrating her with his gloriously thick rod. She whimpered, suckling on his earlobe before stilling her hips completely.

“George, I think you’ve got your bloody product,” she pouted. Then she blushed, realizing how truly childish she sounded. It was not meant to be a reflection on her ability to arouse her partner, nor was it about her inability to find release; though working him over had certainly worked her up in a fashion that was now most taunting.

“I’ll say,” he was blushing again. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Severus— did that, was it— I mean you look like— could you feel anything?”

“Yes,” he growled. He had not pushed Hermione from off his lap, but sat holding her as if keeping her atop him might somehow provide him the release he desperately needed. “Your enchanted sweet only prevents erection, which is not the same as preventing arousal, Mister Weasley. You can still feel stimulated and aroused…and with enough effort achieve a release even without an erection.” His words were spat through clenched teeth and Hermione suddenly felt very sorry for him. If she’d rubbed herself harder or had continued to penetrate him with her finger perhaps he wouldn’t be so irritated. She hadn’t thought such a thing was possible.

“So I should try to tinker with the formula then? I worry about things being all numb, though…” George turned a page in the ledger.

“There is no need, Mr. Weasley. Most wizards would be too embarrassed to try once they discover they can’t get it up…and very few witches or wizards are likely to try and assist their partner in such an endeavor as it takes a great deal of effort to find release without an erection.” His voice was slowly returning to normal.

“I didn’t know that,” she murmured.

“Most people do not,” he said and then nodded at her. “Get up,” he said, gently pushing her back.

Hermione did as she was told and stood from his lap. She retrieved her robe and slipped into it, before handing him his. “You said it lasts three or four hours?” she questioned George.

“Yeah. The notes say three to four…so if you two want to get dressed we can have a gander at what all’s here, and sort through it. No sense in keeping you chilled in your robes if we aren’t going to test anything,” he shrugged.

Severus stood and walked over to the hook by the door where they kept their clothing. “A walk first,” he said and nodded at George. “Miss Granger,” he motioned for her to follow him.

Her face went pale. He was not one for company or for idle chatter. Had she pushed him too far in attempting to draw forth from him an erection? Was he going to reprimand her? She dreaded being reprimanded. She had only been following George’s instructions, to test the product thoroughly. And he had told her that it was best to use what she knew of her partner to arouse him; that nugget of information had been shared during her blowjob lesson. She cast a glance at George, somewhat seeking permission and somehow hoping that he would insist she stay behind in the workshop. But her redheaded employer shrugged his shoulders and waved her off.

She was purposefully slow in dressing, though she realized there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Once she’d dressed, he held open the door for her and they descended the stairs down into the shop and out into the darkness of the evening. It was nearly 11pm, as the clock in the square indicated and the cool night’s breeze caused her to shiver. The pubs were open and there was a great deal of commotion coming from the alley that turned off toward Knockturne, but otherwise the streets were empty. She hadn’t thought about the fact that they’d be out in public together, even if it was incredibly late.

Severus took to walking with his graceful stride, a stride that Hermione struggled to keep pace with owing to the fact that her legs were a good deal shorter than his. He was silent and that unnerved her. They moved through the quieted night air with purpose, as if he were intent on getting them somewhere. It wasn’t until he rounded a corner to a street in Diagon Alley with which she was less than familiar that she paused and grabbed him by the arm.

“I’m sorry, alright?” she said, holding her ground.

Though he’d flinched at her sudden motion, he held perfectly still in that moment, appraising her. “For what, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes bugged out of her head. “For what? For what? Don’t tell me that you didn’t bring me out here to reprimand me for being too familiar with you in there just now…” she bowed her head and blushed furiously. “Didn’t you?”

Severus snorted. “You will be the death of us both,” he said with a bit of a sneer on his lips. “A walk, like many things I do, is simply that. I wished to clear my head after that particular experience and thought it best you did as well.”

Hermione balled her fists tightly at her sides. There were moments where the things he said and the way he said them really made her want to take a good solid swing at him. But she checked her temper and sighed heavily instead. “You’re taxing.”

Again he snorted. “And you’re annoying. Over analytical, familiar, obsessive, obnoxious, and worrisome,” he added. “But you don’t hear me complaining.” She squeaked in indignation but he had turned on his heel and was facing in the direction that they had come. “Save your words, Miss Granger, the walk back is never as long as the walk to…and I wish to have some semblance of sanity intact if we are to be working these next three or four hours to organize the shambles that Mr. Weasley has amassed in his workshop.”

She had to dash to keep up with him as he’d started back toward the shop without waiting for her response. Hermione was bristling. Her nerves were on edge and she found that she was ready to snap his head off, only her mouth thought better of it, lest she incense him entirely. When he held open the door to the joke shop, she only nodded at him and passed through into the darkness. She paused at the base of the stairs, turning so that she faced him as he approached. “I’ll be finished tonight,” she said.

He nodded, seeming to know exactly what she meant. “Indeed.” When he brushed past her to make his way up the steps, she frowned. While she hadn’t been expecting much by way of acknowledgement to her statement, she had hoped that they might linger a bit longer outside of the workshop before returning to what promised to be a tedious and laborious task. Resigning herself to a good four hours of organization, she trudged up the stairs after him.

“All set then?” George asked as they entered the workshop. “I’ve pulled everything I can find, including the box from the flat with all the shower and bath stuff. I’ve gone through it once before, but it will be helpful to have on hand in case we find other products of the like.” He gestured to the makeshift bed, which was no longer a bed, but once again a long marble table in all its ordinary glory. The large hat box, along with the box of shower and bath products, sat next to the box they had been working from as well as a few other boxes she had never seen.

“I figured,” George continued as he moved over toward the table, holding five tiny rubber dots in his palm. “We could try to separate them out…things that require penetration of one sort or another, things that require—”

Severus cut him off. “Products for him, products for her, products for both, products for the bath and shower, and a miscellaneous category for products of an indeterminate use.” He stated.

Hermione smirked just the slightest at the astute fashion in which he overtook the organization process. Images of his immaculate potions stores drifted around in her memory and she smiled fondly on them. Severus had always been an organized man, meticulously so. His work in the workshop would be no different and it seemed perfectly logical. “I think he has a point, George. Since there are a great deal of toys and things that could be used for penetration for man or a woman and in a month’s time when my cycle starts again— if we’re still testing in a month’s time…” She hadn’t thought about how long they might remain employed with George. How long could it possibly take to go through everything that Fred had concocted? She glanced back at the table. They’d already done a great deal of testing and the boxes looked quite full. “Is this everything? Or just what still needs to be tested?”

“Ah. It’s everything I could put my hands on that we haven’t yet explored. There’s a separate box for everything we’ve worked with so far. Actually it’s more of a shelf that’s been split in two— things that are ready and things that need adjusting— but you get the idea,” he said and nodded at the boxes. “I don’t want to say this is everything because I swear every time I turn around I’ve found something tucked away in some obscure place here in the workshop…but this is the majority of it.”

Severus had taken the tiny rubber dots from George’s hand. “Enchanted?” he asked.

“Ah, yeah. Modeled after Hermione’s never-ending bag, actually. Ron said it was a big help during the war.” Nobody spoke after the mention of Ron. But after a moment had passed, George drew his wand and nodded for Severus to put the rubber dots down on the floor. With a flick and a wave, the dots blossomed into five large rubber tubs. “They’ll hold everything. So…products for him in the blue container and products for her in the red one…products for both in the purple one? And the bath products can go in the yellow tub. Whatever is left we can put in the green one.”

It seemed to make sense enough she supposed. Hermione moved over to the table. “You said everything in this box is bath and shower stuff?” she picked up the box. “The whole box can go in the yellow one then?”

“Yeah. It’s all bath and shower stuff…so far as I can tell. I’m sure there might be more mixed into those other boxes, but all of that can go into the yellow bin.” Hermione nodded and set the box down into the yellow bin.

Time seemed to move quickly as they began to sort through the boxes. Some of the products were easily assigned to a bin, and some were not. There were quite a few products that had no notes or description in either the ledger or on the container, and a great deal of these discoveries ended up in the green bin. It was almost alarming how many things ended up in the green bin, and Hermione hoped that they would somehow vanish and find a new home elsewhere before it was time to test them. There were several products that piqued her interest and a few that seemed down right laughable.

“A broomstick?” she asked, pulling what appeared to be an ordinary racing broom out of one of the boxes. “Is this supposed to be in there?”

George, who was mostly flipping through the ledger as Hermione and Severus sorted, glanced up. “I don’t rightly know,” he said. “Is it an actual broom?”

Severus had taken the handle from Hermione and turned it once over in his head. “I do believe this to be a novelty product,” He said.

“How do you figure?” George asked, once again flipping pages in hopes of finding some notes on it.

“The handle is perfectly smooth, polished and sealed. No riding broom, racing or otherwise, has this sort of finish.” His words turned George’s skin a bright shade of red.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Hermione asked.

“A regular broomstick handle is coarse, Miss Granger. Ask any Quidditch player.”

“He’s right,” George said, still flushed. “You try not to tamper with the wood too much or else it doesn’t fly right.”

Hermione still looked perplexed. “Is it meant to…” as a potential use for such a thing dawned on her, scarlet filled her face. “Do you mean to say that you’re meant to—”

“I don’t know, Hermione…I mean maybe it was just meant to fly on?”

Severus snorted. “Another absurd notion concocted by the hormonal youth of Hogwarts,” he muttered. “How anyone could manage any sort of penetrating intercourse while atop a broom midair is both beyond my comprehension and the laws of physics. Levitation is impossible enough with proper concentration. Throw fuckery into the mix and you’re asking for an accident.”

George moved over to more closely examine the broom. “I wonder though…maybe Fred was working on that illogical notion…if it’s a hover broom…with a stabilizing agent…” He twisted the handle over in his hands and jumped back when it began to vibrate. “Or maybe it’s meant for what I thought it was meant for,” he grimaced.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to shove a broom up their—”

“You would be shockingly surprised, Miss Granger. The number of dunderhead students…” he shook his head. “Particularly young closeted students who had…experimented…with such notions…only to find themselves in the Hospital Wing for splinters in the most unfortunate of places.” As Severus spoke, Hermione watched the shade of red in George’s cheeks deepen into a rich purple. She didn’t dare ask it, but had the sneaking suspicion that George Weasley was not only one of those aforementioned students, but one that Severus Snape had perhaps caught in a very unfortunate and compromising position.

“Right, erm…green bin then,” George cleared his throat and scurried quickly back to his ledger.

When the clock in the workshop rang out half two, Hermione yawned. They’d sorted nearly every product that had been found. Severus was putting the last two things— a pair of oversized underwear and a strange looking foam ball— into the purple bin. She turned to George. “That about does it for tonight then?”

He too yawned. “Yeah. And you should be right to work normal tomorrow?” he asked. She nodded. “Great. Then we’ll tackle— well. There’s heaps. We can figure that out tomorrow.” Without further discussion, George summoned up two satchels of coins, paid them, bid them goodnight, and disappeared up into his flat.

Severus did not wait for Hermione as he departed the shop and by the time she’d reached the street he was gone. She wondered if he were frustrated with her or merely tired. It was a shock when she entered Spinner’s End to see him seated on the garish patchwork couch, a warm blaze going in the hearth. “I figured you’d be in bed,” she said and came to stand behind the couch.

“And have you beating down the door so you could ask your questions?” he scoffed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. When she’d finished glaring she moved around to the side of the couch and then slid over the arm, sinking down into the squishy depths of the cushion. The fire was blazing a delicious heat across the room and she felt contented for a moment. But her mind did not idle long. “Why did George look so embarrassed when you started talking about unfortunate students and their brooms?”

The question she had asked had caught him off-guard as he raised his eyebrows at her. “It is not my story to tell, Miss Granger.”

She bit her lower lip, pouting for a moment, and then slid the tiniest bit closer to him. “You can tell me anyway…or I can ask you about last night in the shower…”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you are tasking.”

“So?”

He sighed. “If you so much as think about breathing this tale in front of that tortured inventor that calls himself our employer, I shall deny having told you…and then turn you out onto the street.” He did not wait for her to affirm that she understood him before continuing on with the story. “Mr. Weasley found himself in an unfortunate circumstance for any wizard.”

“And?” Hermione had leaned toward him, her elbows resting on her knees, her eyes wide as if taking him in fully would help her further absorb the tale. Severus stared at her. He was quiet for a long moment and she couldn’t tell if she’d annoyed him with her over-eager curiosity or if he were rethinking his choice in telling her George’s story. “I’m sorry, Severus, I just—”

His finger stopped her words. She fell silent at his touch as if it were a routine they had been practicing for years. The flames from the hearth cast curious shadows across his face. She realized that as he’d leaned forward to silence her and as she’d leaned into his tale they were now quite close together, their bodies brushing and touching in several places. His thigh was pressed against hers and her hand rested close to his knee. She closed her eyes and waited, just taking in the closeness of his figure. She hadn’t noted the little sitting room to be particularly chilly, but in that moment she was grateful for the fire.

It radiated a warmth, one that was amplified by being so close to him, and she experienced the overwhelming urge to shift her body into him and curl up against him. It was a temptation that was difficult to resist. He was sitting casually enough and had she been more impulsive she could have easily crawled into his lap and rested her head upon his shoulder. But Hermione checked her impulse and waited in the silence; the only sound that filled the room being the crackling from the hearth. His finger slipped down her lip, and she felt him trail his fingertip down her chin and then down further over the curve of her jaw. A sharp intake of breath was her response when he cupped the side of her face and tilted it forward.

His lips hovered just at her ear. Hermione could feel her heart racing in her chest; the thundering echoing so loud she was certain he could hear it as well. The warmth of the fire was intensified, the heat of his body leaned in so closely to hers magnifying it tenfold. Every nerve stood on edge as she felt his lips move against her ear, his whisper a silent breath of words that stoked the fire between her legs.

“You are far too eager for your own good.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke. “And it would do you well to learn that information should not be bargained for unless you’re willing to pay the price.”

His lips withdrew and Severus leaned back from her. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she stared at him. He was sitting on the couch as if he hadn’t leaned in and whispered intimately into her ear. Her body felt the shivers of his retreated presence. He met her gaze but his face was passive. After a moment, she shifted her body so that her legs were tucked up under her. This brought her much closer to him. She expected him to flinch or to quirk an eyebrow, but when he did not, she pressed her luck. “I’m willing to pay the price,” she offered. Though she hadn’t sounded as bold as she’d hoped, her voice had been level and even.

His movement had caught her by surprise and so she shrieked when she was hauled suddenly up into his lap. Her legs were jumbled on either side of him and both of his hands were firmly gripped at her hips. It stole her breath and her wide eyes frantically searched his. Was she frightened by him or had the surprise merely taken over her response? She bit her lower lip but quickly stopped when he narrowed his eyes at her. The fire popped loudly behind her and she jumped, though his hands held her in place. “You want to know Mr. Weasley’s story?” he asked.

Hermione swallowed hard, taking a moment to find her voice. “Yes. Or you can take my previous offer of discussing last night.”

Severus scoffed. “Come now, Miss Granger. What is there to discuss? You were there as well as I, you know what happened. And all the discussion in the world is unlikely to give you what you seek, which is reasoning and logic for why it happened. I have already given you the closest thing to such notions that will appease that situation.” His hands slid up her body and she tensed as she felt him pause just at the side of her breasts. “Frightened now, are we?” he asked with a smirk.

“N-no.” She cursed under her breath at her stammered response. This was madness. He was playing her like some child’s game and all she had wanted was answers. “Severus, what do you want?” she asked, her voice much more firm and assertive.

This drew a dark and yet somehow delicious sound from him. He chuckled, but only for a moment and she felt the sound reverberate through her chest. His hands clutched at the side of her ribs, just below her breasts and she faltered as he pulled her body slowly forward. She had not been expecting the shift in balance and despite his controlled arm movements, Hermione found her face just in front of his, her body pressed downward against his chest. It was stirring the blood in her veins and she wished for all the world that she could put a handle on her hormones, if only for just a moment so that she could think clearly around him.

“You didn’t answer my question…” her eyes closed and she whimpered as she felt his right hand slide around her back and slowly down until it landed on her arse. His fingers drummed against the swell of her right cheek, his palm resting casually against the small of her back.

“Tell me about this…” his hand slipped down between the band of her joggers and beyond the band of her knickers until his fingers were touching her skin. She gasped, feeling his slender, spidery digits tracing intricate circles just over the well-hidden tattoo that she knew to be there. Her face flushed a deep scarlet and at once she tried to wriggle away from his lap. But he was strong and with only one hand he held her firmly in place. The dark chuckle had returned to his voice. “You see? Not so forthcoming with information, are you, Miss Granger?”

Hermione could feel heat rising up through her. A warmth that was half driven by lust and half driven by embarrassment and revolt. She squirmed against his lap but was unable to extricate herself from atop his thighs. His eyes were piercing in the shadows of the firelight, even more so than they normally were and she found herself overwhelmed staring into them. He searched her eyes and after a moment he squeezed her arse. She yelped, though quickly covered her mouth, feeling foolish for having done so. There was a gush of pleasure from his touch, which mingled poorly with the frustration she was currently feeling. Her mind and her body were at odds. Her body wished nothing more than to push him back, grind her hips down into his lap and snog his face off. But her mind was whirling with the psychological and emotional implications of the situation.

She felt his other hand sliding up the front of her chest until it tilted her chin downward, forcing her to look into his eyes. Hermione held his gaze though it drove her mad to do so, and when he raised an eyebrow at her she felt her resolve crumble. “You will be the death of me,” she mocked. This earned her a swat on the arse and she whimpered.

“That did not hurt,” he eyed her suspiciously. Severus held her gaze, one hand still resting on her bare cheek, the other now placed against her collarbone. His fingers slid over her flesh, circling the precise spot of her tattoo. “If you’re not inclined to share, I’ve other things to do this evening.”

He was a snake. A well-practiced serpent toying with its meal before devouring it in one single swallow, but Hermione was clever. She would play his game and win it. She bit her lower lip and tilted her head back just enough that reaching to pry her lip from her teeth as he had prone to doing would make an awkward reach for him. She drew in slow and steady breaths and then nodded her head. “After the war…those first few months back at Hogwarts— I had to finish…but I no longer belonged. I’d seen— there were things—”

“You were changed.” He said.

There was an understanding in that moment that shook her deeply. He too had been through a war; he had been through two wars. Serving two masters, trying desperately to protect Harry. How any one person could have survived what he did and carry on in an almost ordinary fashion was beyond her comprehension. It was not something she had ever given consideration before that moment. Hermione sighed and shook her head. Her eyes met his and she rocked her hips slightly, shifting her body in an attempt to stand up from his lap. “I don’t think I’m much for sharing anymore,” she muttered.

“Pity,” he said after a moment. Though he did not make to move the hand that rested on her arse, she noted that he let his other hand rest at his side. Hermione shifted back against his lap, sliding her legs out on either side of him and with a slow and somewhat unsteady motion, she stood up. His hand fell away from her backside and she took a timid step back from him before sitting down on the couch beside him. They were no longer touching. He studied her; his eyes watching her every movement as she shifted back into the cushions.

“I felt numb,” she said after a spell of sitting quietly, gazing into her lap. “Sometimes I still do, though not as much.” He was silent, simply watching her, waiting for her to speak. “I spent the Christmas hols alone…” Hermione could feel her chest shaking as she spoke. “I told the school I was going to The Burrow…told Molly I was staying at school.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I had to try and find them?” she sounded uncertain of herself as if telling the tale aloud was justifying it somehow. “I did, of course…but I couldn’t undo what I’d done.”

It had been a harrowing experience; the search for her parents in Australia, and then realizing that even if she had been skilled enough to restore their memories— though she was quite certain she would have given it a valiant effort— that it was no life for them. To say her decision had been difficult was a kindness to her broken heart. She could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but she was determined not to cry in front of him. Hermione blinked her eyes hard, turning her face to the fire. “So on Christmas Eve I found myself in a beach town on the coast…alone…and I met a bloke. Just an ordinary muggle man…” She wrapped her arms around her chest.

“He was rather fond of the bottle that day and I became his drinking partner.” She closed her eyes, a single tear leaking down over her cheek. “Next thing I knew we were in his mate’s flat…I was half naked on a table,” she cleared her throat. “He said a pretty girl needed all parts of her too look pretty, and I was too drunk and empty and numb to argue.” Hermione opened her eyes, though they were red and watering. “It hurt, but it was the first honest thing I’d felt since before the war. I bled too much, he told me later, or I would have let him and his mate run that needle until I was covered.”

She fell silent. Flames licked the logs in the hearth, lazy slow crackles and pops as they burned. The room was quiet. She didn’t speak nor did he. They sat beside one another, and although she would not face him, she could see his eyes upon her. Hermione knew if she turned her head to look at him that she would burst into tears. Severus Snape was not the comforting sort, and although he tended to her when he was concerned, she doubted that he would pull her into his arms and let her cry it out. When the waves of turbulent emotions passed, she exhaled slowly and then leaned forward, ready to stand from the couch.

His hand just at the side of her knee stopped her cold. Her eyes went first to his hand, which rested now half on her kneecap, and then she glanced at his face. His eyes were soft, a gentle pool of blackness that she had never seen before. The swirls of forbidden emotions were there, but they drifted along behind something else. It might have been compassion, perhaps empathy, or even pity. She couldn’t name it, but she felt comforted to see it. There were no words, only his touch. But there was no need for words. Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, letting trembling fingers rest atop his hand.

It was a subtle embrace, her hand over his, but the warmth of his skin eased her pain. She sat that way for what felt like hours. His hand just against her leg and her hand just over his. She watched his eyes, she watched the fire, and she watched the way his chest rose and fell. Steady even breaths as they sat in each other’s silent company. When the flames had all but died, he gave her knee the gentlest of squeezes before pulling back his hand. Severus stood from the sofa and nodded at her.

She stood as well, their bodies close but not touching. Her eyes searched his and he brushed two fingers against her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning ever so slightly into his caress. “Go put the kettle on, Miss Granger. Clearly, no one is sleeping tonight.”


	14. Twisted Knickerz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intimate topic of pegging, more anal sex, and lactation is explored in this chapter, in addition to the usual smut-n-fluff.

Hermione had put the kettle on and gone to change into more comfortable clothing. She was surprised when she returned to the kitchen that Severus had fixed two cups of tea and retreated to the patchwork sofa. The fire had been relit and was in full blaze. She had donned a pair of pajama pants and a faded Vratsa Vultures t-shirt. It had been a present from Viktor when he’d first returned to Durmstrang and while she didn’t particularly care for the logo of the shirt, the fabric was cozy and felt comforting against her skin. She approached the sofa with caution and slipped over its arm, settling down with her legs tucked up under her.  
Severus turned to face her and handed her a cup of tea. She nodded her thanks and took a sip from the steaming cup. They sat in silence for a while, sipping the tea and listening to the fire without really looking at one another. She spoke first, as she found she often did. “I’ve never told anyone that story before,” she confessed. “They did all ask, about my parents I mean, but I told them I couldn’t find them.” She sighed quietly and then set the cup down on the floor. “I cover up the tattoo because I don’t want to remember that night. That trip. That holiday.”

“We all hide the things we do not wish to remember, Miss Granger.” He turned his head, taking in her figure. It didn’t make her nervous though it usually did when he stared at her. There was something about their exchange of words that made her feel like his equal. She nodded slowly, eyes meeting his. It was difficult not to be so physically forward. Every impulse in her body urged her to lean forward and embrace him. Hermione restrained herself, difficult as the task was, and focused instead on his eyes. They were dark and mysterious and for a moment she saw them without trying to see what was inside of them. It was a beautiful thing.

Hermione finished her cup of tea and took a moment to resituate herself on the sofa. She did so with deliberate movements that brought her body next to his. She let her leg rest against his and brought one hand down onto the top of his thigh. Either her touch no longer phased him or he had managed to control his flinching reflex. It was a compromise of body and mind, still physically connecting with him without going wild in the process. She titled her head down until it rested on his shoulder and she smiled to herself when he did not shrug her off. “Are you going to tell me about George?” she whispered.

The crackle of the fire filled the silence in the room while she waited for her reply. Flames danced along the hearth to an invisible tune that only the fire could hear and her eyes grew mesmerized watching their motion. It was a soothing phenomenon. Little beams of light traipsed across the floor and over the hybrid-shag rug she’d placed over the wooden boards and shadows waltzed their way into the mix as she sat, leaning on him, waiting to see if he would speak. The rise and fall of his chest was steady; had it been any other person she might have assumed him to be asleep. But to doze off with her resting on him would have made him open and vulnerable and although he had made great progress in regards to their exchanges, she knew it was very unlikely that he was that comfortable with her.

When his voice cut the silence it was smooth, a low velvety rumble that spoke with ease. “It would have been your third year,” he started. “I don’t know if Mr. Weasley was out among his peers then or not…he was just 15.” She listened with rapt attention but did not lift her head to see his eyes. She knew they would captivate her in another sense and send her mind reeling into other thoughts and she longed to hear the story. It was no doubt one that Severus would have his own interpretive spin for and she was more curious about the way he recalled it than what had actually happened to poor George.

“It was an ordinary night for myself, patrolling the grounds after hours.” She had half-expected him to say that he had been on his way back from or off to a meeting with the Death Eaters or The Order. She had heard rumors of both these things when all of the details of Severus’ involvement in the war had arisen. Hermione tried to think of a time when she remembered Severus Snape being absent from Hogwarts, and realized that she never could. It was unlikely that he ever went anywhere, even for summons at night, as it would have been noticeable by someone and that such stories were simply that.

“I made the end of my rounds by the Quidditch Pitch, a notorious place for ill-planned rendezvous among eager hormonal students,” his voice sounded pinched.

“The Quidditch Pitch? At night?” she asked. Hermione was not overly fond of Quidditch, and she had been terrified of flying on a broomstick for as long as she could remember. The night they’d helped Harry escape Privet Drive by broom had been a horrific experience for her before they’d even gotten off the ground. She knew the Quidditch Pitch was not at all lit and she could not imagine attempting to meet someone in the darkness of those stands, wands or not.

“I never understood the intrigue myself, but I suppose it offered more cover than the astronomy tower, and there was nary a night during warmer weather where students weren’t being foolish within the stands and under the risers.” Severus turned his head, which shifted his body and Hermione was forced to lift her head from off his shoulder. “Never took such a rendezvous?” his lips were tugged back into his familiar smirk and she couldn’t help but flush when she thought about what exactly he was asking.

“I was never asked,” she admitted.

Severus held her gaze for a moment, their faces closer together now that he had turned. “Indeed.” He paused, lifted his tea cup to his lips, sipped, and then continued. “I suppose not. Your after-curfew adventures were always escorted by Weasley the younger and Potter.” He did not allow her a moment to defend her friends, but she supposed it was for the best, lest they delve into a deep-seeded dislike of Harry on his end and the remainder of the conversation go horribly astray. “I came across Mr. Weasley in a most unfortunate way.”

“How so?”

Severus sighed. “Miss Granger…” he shook his head. “You will learn to stop interrupting or I shall start binding your mouth when we speak.” Hermione flushed again, half embarrassed half flustered. His approach to conversation was not at all to her liking. “He and—” she noted the way he paused and her brows furrowed. “The person he was with is irrelevant. But he and another male student had taken to fooling around. Inexperienced, unpracticed, exploratory. And in an attempt to involve themselves with one another without involving themselves…Mr. Weasley’s broom handle was intimated into the scenario.”

Hermione listened to his words. He was conscious of his language choices, he was deliberate in selecting his phrases. It almost romanticized the story until she realized that he was just gracefully stating that the other boy had tried to fuck George’s arse with a broomstick. “Oh dear,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

“And much like most inexperienced youths…lubrication was an afterthought, the rendezvous being somewhat spontaneous, and while saliva may work for many things it does not work for everything.”

“Oh…dear…” she tried to chase the image from her mind.

“By the time I caught them, the deed was over, but Mr. Weasley was suffering from splinters…and not just externally,” he added. “The situation was embarrassing enough but I did not spare them the lecture. The other student was sent to Dumbledore, he was better suited for handling those situations, and McGonagall would have died from shock—”

“The other student was a Gryffindor too then?” Severus narrowed his eyes at Hermione. “Sorry.”

“Late night matters of romantic entanglement always involved the head of house, the headmaster, myself or Mr. Filch, whomever had the displeasure of catching the little miscreants in the act, and Madam Pomphrey. As you know from the text I gave you, all sorts of things can be transmitted in magical adolescents, not to mention the usual concerns. This case in particular involved potential damage to other things entirely.”

When Severus stopped speaking and Hermione was certain she wasn’t going to be reprimanded for interrupting, she asked, “If the other boy was sent to Professor Dumbledore…you took George to the hospital wing?”

He nodded. “I do not believe Mr. Weasley had fully identified himself sexually at that time in his history, and at the time such identifications were not as readily accepted as they are today. It was in his best interest to have the situation remain quiet.” He paused. “I explained the situation to Madam Pomphrey, without incriminating the other student, and then hastened to the Headmaster’s Office to keep things quiet.”

Hermione was shocked. It seemed unfathomable that Severus Snape would have done such a thing. But the more she thought about it, the more logical his response had been. Sexuality had never been a topic of widespread acceptance at Hogwarts, unless one was of the label that was considered to be normal: heterosexual. She realized that Severus had given George a kindness by keeping his secret. It wasn’t until just after losing Fred that she remembered George coming out of the closet to the family. Molly and Arthur had been wholeheartedly accepting and she had expected nothing less from them. Even Percy in his own fusty way had embraced George’s sexual identity with open arms. She had not thought about what that might have been like had he been outed at school.

“Did you take house points?”

Severus snorted. “I was logical, not a bleeding heart, Ms. Granger. Of course I took house points. And he served detention for two months,” he added. “As would any student that had been caught out after hours and outside, regardless of what they had been caught doing. There was simply no need to elaborate on the circumstances.”

She realized in that moment that he was a compassionate person far more than he had ever been given credit for and it made her heart dizzy to experience such a revelation. She closed her eyes to calm herself and then she shifted her body once more, leaning into his frame. He grunted just slightly when she elbowed him in the side but was pleased that he did not push her off. “Severus, can I ask you something?” she said after finally settling down, leaning on him as much as he would allow.

He sighed. “I have nothing further to say about Mr. Weasley or that evening. And if you ask me about last night I promise you it shall never happen again.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself as she giggled. This caused his head to snap around and glare at her. “Oh, please, Severus. You said it yourself that if it was good that it was bound to happen again…and I can’t imagine that it was anything but good for you,” she teased. She sat up, curled her legs underneath her once more, and batted her eyes at him.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you will—”

“I know, I know, be the death of you,” she said. Hearing George’s story had given her a new round of courage where he was concerned. He was a compassionate man; he was a man that cared about protecting others, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she realized she’d known that all along. The way he’d doted on her, in his own reserved and clinical fashion, during their work together in the workshop, had proved as much, she just hadn’t realized it fully. With careful movements so as not to startle him, she braced her hands on his shoulders and climbed up into his lap, much the way he had held her before when he was pressing on about her tattoo. Though he looked at her with stern eyes, he did not make to push her back, and when she settled over him, she noted the way that his hands came to rest just against the small of her back, though it happened slowly as if he were trying to hide the gesture.

“You are too familiar for your own good.” He said.

“I don’t see you pushing me off you,” she countered.

There was silence as they stared at one another, the fire’s heat now warming her back. “Ask your question, Miss Granger,” he said.

She had found the confidence to climb up into his lap but the question she had been ready to pose him seemed to have fled her mind. Not because she didn’t know exactly what she had wanted to bring up, but because she felt suddenly nervous. It was not like her to be so bold, and to be so bold with him was new territory as well. There was an enormous difference between daring to touch his hand or his arm verses climbing up into his lap. She bit her lower lip out of habit and when he chuckled she shivered.

“Cat have your tongue, Miss Granger?” he asked, his dark eyes swirling as he plucked her lower lip from between her teeth. He pinched the pink petal between his fingers and she winced slightly. “Bad habit or not, it’s not becoming of you.”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“It’s unattractive. It makes you look uneasy and uncertain. And though you may have your doubts, as all people do from time to time, you are neither of those things,” he said.

This made her flush. Had he just complimented her? It was the closest thing she had ever heard to a compliment from the mouth of Severus Snape. She tried not to let it go to her head. As her heart thumped away with giddy glee in her chest, she shifted her body forward just slightly and let her hands rest easy on his shoulders. “I wanted to ask you about…I guess— well I’m not really sure what you would call it, but that can I saw when we were sorting boxes? Actually before we were sorting boxes just before he found the Funderwear—”

His finger fell onto her lips and her words died in her mouth. “Organize your thoughts. You’re rambling.”

She nodded her head. While he was blunt in his execution, she supposed he was right. It did her no good to dither about, she needed to ask what it was she intended to ask. Waiting for him to pull his finger back, Hermione drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I imagine if the product works…and I end up growing a cock, he’ll ask me to test its functionality, which is reasonable.” She paused, trying to keep the heat from rising up in her cheeks as she spoke. “Much like so many things when it comes to sex, I’ve never had any sort of experience with anything like that. I’ve never strapped anything onto anywhere to—”

“Pegging. It’s called pegging, Miss Granger,” he said. She was relieved when his first words were not to mock her woeful inexperience. She wondered if many women her age had experience with strap-ons and things of the like. “And there was no doubt that you were going to have no experience in that field, given what little you’ve had with conventional sexual practices.” He did not allow her to interrupt or protest. “Few women find themselves in a position to explore such a notion with their partner, even when they find themselves to be of a lesbian or bisexual persuasion. And a great deal of men are not comfortable with their own sexuality, at least not enough to explore it in that regard.”

Again a burst of relief flooded through her. This was something that was out of her realm of experience but it seemed to be the case for others as well. Hermione leaned back to let the shadows from the fire slide away from his face. Reading his eyes was difficult at the best of times, but she wanted to see his response when she posed her question. “Will you teach me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not tonight. My body wouldn’t stand for it even if I meant it to, and I’ve nothing in the house suitable for such an endeavor.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean right now.” She paused and quirked her lips thoughtfully. “Surely you could just transfigure something?”

Severus shook his head. “If you’re going to be taught you’re going to be taught correctly, and I am not currently in possession of a strap-on…as you might surmise I’ve little need for it.”

“Right…” Hermione frowned but then her eyes lit up. “I could always pinch the can from the workshop—”

“Absolutely not. Aside from the fact that I will not condone stealing— from anyone’s…stores or supplies…” he glared at her pointedly but she refused to give him the satisfaction he was seeking. It had been over a decade since she’d stolen from his potions stores at Hogwarts and the world had changed radically since then. She was a student trying to solve the world’s problems alongside her two best friends. Now she was a grown woman, shagging a man for work with whom she shared a residence. Things were different to say the least. When she failed to rise to his bait, he continued on. “Merlin only knows what could go wrong with such a product…if it’s going to malfunction, I would prefer it to do so at Mr. Weasley’s workshop.”

She hung her head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Severus sighed. “Of course you hadn’t.” Hermione was jostled suddenly and all but displaced from his lap. “Get up.” Hermione found herself dumped haphazardly into the cushions of the sofa as he stood and moved toward the door. He took up his long black cloak and turned back to stare at her. “Come along, Miss Granger.”

Her eyes were wide. “Severus, what on earth— where are you going— at this hour?” It had been after half two when they’d left the shop and although it had only taken a moment to apparate back to Spinner’s End, she knew they’d been sitting and chatting for at least an hour. “And I’m not dressed to—”

“It doesn’t matter how you’re dressed,” he said pointedly and then wrapped his cloak around his figure. “I said let’s go.”

There was something about his tone that made her jump up and move quickly over to the door. She didn’t know why his command had made her obey so readily but that was a thought for another mind. She caught the face of the clock as they swept out into Spinner’s End, it was only a few minutes before four in the morning. She couldn’t fathom where he would be taking her at that hour, let alone what sort of place would allow her to arrive in a half-dressed state, but before she could dwell on it further, he’d drawn her close to him, held her tightly and disapparated.

Landing on the dreary and rain-soaked streets of a particularly seedy looking alley had not been pleasant. Hermione clung to him as he strode with purpose down the cobblestone. The smell of rainwater and garbage assailed her nose and she wished for all the world she’d grabbed proper boots before he’d taken them to wherever it was they were currently headed. Between the darkness and the dank chill, Hermione was frightened, though logically she knew that was irrational. She’d faced down the Dark Lord alongside Harry Potter and there was no reason to be afraid of a cold dark alley at that hour with Severus Snape beside her. He seemed to know the alley well and wound his way down it further still, the towering slopes of the buildings growing closer together as the walkway grew narrower.

She bumped into his backside when he stopped suddenly. They were near the end of the alleyway and Hermione could see where the cobblestones broke away into proper pavement. To their left was a stone archway that would have been missed entirely if Severus hadn’t stopped in front of it. The derelict sign that hung over the archway read Twizted Knickerz, though it could hardly be seen against the splintered wood. What looked like once illustrious silver and gold paint was now little more than faded flecks of yellow and gray and it took Hermione a full minute before she realized that the archway was no archway but a door that led into some sort of tawdry establishment.

Clinging closely to Severus, she followed him through the door, a little bell ringing as they stepped inside. The interior of the place was as foul as the alley had been. The smell had changed; sex and cheap perfume mingled with rubber found its way to her nose and she cringed. Her eyes couldn’t take it all in quick enough. They had entered some sort of wayward sexual store. Clothing of naughty varieties hung all over the ceiling and the walls, with pornographic magazines and videos stacked on racks as far back as the narrow little shop went. There were cases closer to the side where she could see a glass counter and a cash register.

“Sorry! We’re closed up for the evening— you’ll have to come back tomorrow after six when we— oh my word!” The nasally little voice had rang out from somewhere beyond where Hermione could see but as the voice’s owner came into view, catching sight of Severus, the slender man paused, gaping in disbelief. “Are you— what— where have you been?” A slip of a man, only as tall as she was, though half the size around, rushed toward Severus and threw his arms around him. His coiffed blonde hair was stacked firm atop his head and he wore a spangled purple vest with black and green pinstriped pants. “It’s been ages, my dear!” the man kissed Severus on both cheeks and then squarely on the lips.

Hermione was stricken with shock. Never in her life could she imagine such a person to be so bold as to assault Severus Snape with a hug and several kisses for a greeting. But what flabbergasted her was the fact that Severus Snape appeared not to mind. She watched the hint of a smile draw across his lips as the blonde-haired man stepped back from him. “Always the overzealous one, Nigel,” he said and nodded. “You’ve got time to help me with something before you close up?”

“For you, sweet Sevvy? I’ve got all the time in the world!” The blonde man was aglow, grinning from ear to ear as if the black-clad wizard that had just walked into the shop was Santa Claus. Hermione drank in every detail of the stranger. His features were soft and feminine, his hair short but thick and styled to perfection atop his head. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green and his teeth were pearly white, not in the least bit crooked. He was young, perhaps not even her own age, but certainly no older. His voice was pitched and there was a flare that radiated around his person that was anything but subtle.

Severus chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name in ages.”

“You haven’t been around in ages.” Nigel pouted. “I do miss your visits, Sevvy.”

Hermione swore she was invisible. Nigel seemed to only have eyes for Severus and was pointedly ignoring her, or else she had turned transparent when she walked through the door. She longed to clear her throat or to step forward and take Severus by the hand, but it was clear there was a history between them and it set her mind at odds. She was so caught up in her mind that all she could do was watch their exchange.

“Are you going to help me or not, Nigel?” Severus smirked. “Don’t make me punish you for being useless.”

Nigel squealed and spun around. The blonde bent over and waggled his bum at Severus, earning him a firm slap on his pinstriped backside. Hermione gaped at them, her eyes so wide that they nearly fell out of their sockets. She could not believe what she was witnessing. The familiarity with which Severus attended to Nigel was somewhat disturbing but she couldn’t stop staring.

“What brings you in tonight? And at this hour?” he asked, his shiny eyes gleaming with merriment as he gazed at Severus. “Nevermind what’s kept you away all this while…what can I—” Nigel stepped closer to Severus and wrapped his arms around his neck, bumping his pelvis forward against him. “Do for you?” the younger man snickered.

Severus scoffed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’m at least a year older,” he teased. “And I’ve gotten this…” he held his tongue out of his mouth, showing off the reflective metallic ball that protruded from it. “I’ve received a great deal of…compliments…on just how effective it is.”

Severus smirked again. “I’m sure you have.”

“Care for me to show you?” he asked and leaned up on his tiptoes.

Again Severus chuckled. He reached forward and ran his fingers through Nigel’s hair, which caused the blonde man to blush and giggle again. “I need a proper strap-on,” he said. “Something firm but malleable, with a gentle but sturdy harness. A beginner’s harness, but a mature phallus.”

If Nigel were a rocket he would have exploded at Severus’ words. “Sevvy! What on earth do you need that for? Don’t tell me after all your buggering it’s finally fallen off?!”

“Calm yourself, pet. Everything is still in proper working order,” Severus said as he placed a hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “It’s for a lesson.”

Hermione could not believe her ears or her eyes. She had fallen asleep at Spinner’s End after laying her head on Severus’ shoulder and would be nudged awake at any moment by a rather annoyed housemate. That was the only rational explanation for her current situation. Her imagination was waging cruel war against her mind in a fantastical and terribly life-like dream. She closed her eyes and closed them hard, silently hoping that when she opened them she’d be staring at the smoldering embers that remained in the hearth. But when she opened her eyes she was still standing just behind Severus in the sex shop with the excitable Nigel doting on him.

“A lesson? Are you teaching again? Is that why I haven’t seen you round?” Nigel pouted, pushing his lower lip out in an exaggerated fashion. “I was your star pupil once…”

“Indeed,” said Severus. There was a fondness laced in his voice. With a heavy sigh he shook his head. “Nigel, find me what I’m looking for? It’s been a long day and I don’t feel like sifting or searching.” The blonde was all too eager to please Severus and dashed away to a part of the store currently obscured to Hermione’s vantage point. When he turned his head to look at Hermione she was surprised. “He’s always been energetic,” said Severus.

Hermione was floored. She had never heard Severus Snape speak any modicum of praise about anyone, much less a rationalization of such behavior. She stood gazing in confusion at him, trying to reconcile what she had just witnessed with how she knew Severus to be in her mind. It broke her brain to try and align the two notions. And he had called the man pet. “You and he are close,” she said. And it astounded her to watch him falter. Never in her existence of knowing Severus, not during her days at Hogwarts and certainly not since then, had she ever witnessed him be anything less than certain of himself. But this sprightly popinjay had completely disarmed him.

“I think I’ve found the perfect—” Nigel’s words stopped sharply as he returned and took notice of Hermione for the first time since she had entered the shop. “Your student?” he asked, failing to hide his suspicions, which sounded more like disgust to Hermione than anything else.

“Nigel this is Miss Granger,” he paused. “A co-worker of mine.”

It tore through her like sharp knives. It shouldn’t have bothered her. She would have been foolish to have expected to be introduced as anything but. After all they were co-workers, and he’d said that while there was a mutual attraction he was uncertain that it was anything beyond physical. Hermione swallowed and held out her hand to greet Nigel. The blonde man politely shook her hand and then sized her up with his eyes. “Pleasure,” he said, though his voice made it sound like anything but.

Severus sighed and shook his head. “Don’t get a jealous heart,” he said and Hermione wasn’t sure whether the comment was meant to be addressed toward herself or at Nigel. No one spoke as Nigel rang them up at the register, though Hermione noted as she retreated toward the door that Nigel made a big display out of hugging and kissing Severus goodbye. It was difficult to tell whether Severus returned the kiss without staring in a most unbecoming manner. When they were once more standing in the chill of the alleyway, she looked at Severus with questioning eyes and he shook his head. “You are going to wait until we’re home.”

When he’d told her earlier in the night to put the kettle on because no one would be sleeping, she had had no idea just how serious that statement had been. Standing once more over the kettle in the kitchen, Hermione chewed her bottom lip with her back facing Severus, not wanting to be reprimanded for yet another bad habit. What could she say to him? She imagined he wouldn’t be very forthcoming about whoever Nigel was to him and how exactly the young man fit into his past. Her overactive imagination had cooked up all sorts of scenarios based on the limited interactions she had witnessed. None of them were particularly pleasant or to her liking.

But what right had she to be jealous? It wasn’t as if they were entangled in an exclusive relationship. She wasn’t even sure that she could call whatever it was they had embarked upon a relationship, mostly because she wasn’t sure they had really embarked on it. There had been one reckless encounter in the shower. And although he’d been more accepting of her forwardness, as he called it, with physical intimacy and touching, there had not been any reason to suspect that anything was different. He’d even justified their actions with reasoning that supported her theory that nothing had changed. Then why did she feel so cross and green-eyed when she witnessed the other man drooling on Severus?

And to whom was that statement meant to address? Don’t get a jealous heart. His words played over and over in her mind as the kettle began to whistle. She couldn’t stop hearing them, even as she poured the boiling water into the teapot to let the leaves steep. Hermione tried to picture him saying the words while looking at her and then again while looking at Nigel, but she couldn’t recall that he had really looked at either of them when he spoke. Had he meant her? Was he telling her not to be jealous because she had no right to be or because Nigel was nothing to be jealous over? She was vexed. If he had been speaking to Nigel the same two questions applied; was it because Nigel was a flame of the past and no longer had rights to be jealous or because Hermione was of no consequence in his current life and thus nothing for Nigel to worry over?

Her mind was still churning when she poured two mugs and took the strainer out of the teapot. She placed the mugs and the teapot at the center of the kitchen table and sat down, waiting for him to join her. The first hints dawn were cracking on the horizon and seeping through the window in muted shades of purple. She should have been tired. Though the work in the workshop had hardly been draining on her, the emotional turmoil into which she’d been thrust by the spontaneous visit to Twizted Knickerz was more than enough to make her want to collapse into bed. But when they’d returned he’d nodded for her to put the kettle on, clearly intent on having some sort of conversation.

When he entered the kitchen she noted that he had changed, though his comfortable clothing bore little difference to his working threads. A black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers of a looser cut, but otherwise it looked the same and kept most of his frame hidden from her view. He sat down at the chair opposite of hers and sipped the tea. She had not yet taken a seat and was hugging her chest to keep from pacing.

“I know you have questions, Miss Granger, best put them out there before I change my mind and turn in.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Is he a wizard?” she asked. It surprised her to hear that her mouth had picked a question other than the one her mind had intended. She supposed it didn’t really matter if he was of magical origin or not, but why she had blurted it out even she didn’t understand.

“Does it matter if he is?” Severus held her gaze with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“N-no,” she hung her head. “I suppose not.”

“You asked because subconsciously you’re weighing yourself against him, stacking him up in comparison. He is younger. He is a male, which you think gives him an advantage somehow, but if he’s only a muggle boy then you at least have him in that respect.” She was appalled at his logic. But as she thought it over her face filled with a red shame; a flush that could not deny that he was right. She had been comparing them in her mind, but to what end? He was not her boyfriend, they weren’t even technically lovers. It frustrated her to realize that she had been quite petty and shallow.

“How much younger is he?” she asked after a moment’s consideration.

Severus snorted. “That I’m not so inclined to share with you…he is of legal age, and that’s all that should matter.”

Hermione blanched. The young blonde surely couldn’t have been just sixteen, but the thought that he might only be a few years older than that made her stomach turn. She frowned. Age was only meant to be a number, why was she so bothered by the sudden introduction of someone younger than her? She sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I…” Hermione looked at him, feeling very vulnerable. “His age shouldn’t be important— he shouldn’t be important— I don’t know why this is quite so upsetting.”

Her question should have been met with silence. It floored her when he instead countered with a lengthy answer. “Miss Granger…you’re emotionally invested in ways that I cannot explain when it comes to the situation that you have found yourself in here with me. I cannot tell you that you shouldn’t be, for all the world it would do nothing but waste my breath. I can keep you from making a fool out of yourself by expressing such notions but little else. I cannot stop you from feeling such things.” He paused only to take up the teapot and pour himself another cup. “I can caution you against such things for a number of reasons, though again I fear to do so would only waste my breath as you aren’t likely to listen. You find yourself upset because it’s a natural emotional reaction when one person has feelings for another person and they see those feelings being lavished upon that by a different person.”

“Severus— please—” she sighed in frustration. “If you’re trying to say that you think I’m in love with you and that I shouldn’t be because you don’t believe you deserve it or that you don’t reciprocate it, and that you can try to keep me from saying it aloud because you don’t want me to make an arse of myself, but that I’m feeling this way because of the way that boy was doting on you because I’m jealous— then why don’t you just say that?”

“That is exactly what I just said.” He paused and let his lips slide into the faintest of smirks. “More or less.”

Hermione glowered at him. She was frustrated. She was wounded. And he was being cheeky. It was more than she could handle. She stalked past the table intent on storming off to her bedroom, slamming the door, and staying looked inside until it was time to leave for the workshop some 12 hours later. But he was on his feet with both hands around her waist before she could exit the kitchen. “What?” she growled.

Severus searched her eyes, holding her still in front of him. “You are jealous of him.”

“Yes! Fine! I’m jealous! Whatever! Please let me go to my room!” she shouted.

“There’s no need to shout.” He said and released his arms from around her waist. He had given her exactly what she’d asked for and yet she stood there.

They stood facing one another in the kitchen for several long moments. She realized that she could have stood there staring at him all night. Every emotion that was coursing through her was ready to erupt at any moment but she remained quiet, trying to sort her thoughts. It had been childish to lash out as she had done, but on some level it must have impacted him as he had immediately released her and not made a move or word to counter her after. Hermione closed her eyes. “So you are a bisexual then?”

“Miss Granger, I’ve told you before, it is not as simple as labels,” he said. His voice was not annoyed nor was it taxed, simply tired and she wondered if it was because the hour was beyond reasonable or because he was tired of explaining his sexuality. And perhaps just not to her, but to anyone whom he had encountered in that context throughout his life.

Again she wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself to try and pull herself back together. There were a million things she could say but she couldn’t find a single one that seemed to fit. It was no use. She could see now why he had been so careful to keep them from crossing the line that they had crossed. For a moment she almost wished that they hadn’t crossed it. For him it had clearly just been sex, passionate lust-driven incredible sex. But nothing more. Why had she insisted on attaching meaning to it? Why had she bothered? Did she really feel the way she felt about him? Her mind was screaming.

“You could use rest,” he said after watching her face shift with every fleeting whim of her internal monologue.

“I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep now if I tried.” She admitted. She had to take her mind off of him. She had to stop thinking about what had happened between them. She lived in his house out of convenience. She worked with him because he had been hired before she had. And they were colleagues that shared a residence. “Are you going to show me how to peg with that thing you purchased?” It was perhaps the most ridiculous thing she’d said since they’d returned to Spinner’s End, but in that moment it was the only rational thing she could think to say. She did not wish to be alone with her thoughts but the two of them could not continue to discuss their current situation. If he was forced to teach and she to learn then her mind would be occupied with something else.

Severus shook his head. A single step closed the distance between them. “You’re in no state.”

“Then put me in one.” It was a daring statement. But he’d worked her up before when he’d tried to teach her the finer points of whipping. She felt her body tremble as his arms circled around her and before she could help herself she’d leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

“Not now.”

“Severus—”

“Be quiet, Miss Granger,” he said and she obeyed. Her head rested on his chest and she could hear his heart beating, slow and steady. His chest rose and fell with ease and the rhythm was soothing, a hypnotic metronome that seemed to ease her mind even if only for a moment. How long they stood that way she couldn’t fathom, and had he not tilted her chin up and forced her to look up at him, she would have stayed that way for quite some time. His eyes were obsidian whirlpools that paralyzed her.

“I wanted to take my mind off…I thought if you were teaching me something I’d be forced to focus on it rather than…” she sighed.

“Indeed.” Two fingers brushed the side of her jaw and she leaned into his touch as if it were the sun warming her face. “Even if it would have…even if you weren’t in a state and I could put you in one…after today’s work I am not sure my body would tolerate it.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with alarm. “Today’s— you didn’t— did the effects of that last product wear off?” she asked.

The soft rumbling that she had come to recognize as his laughter met her ears. “You and Mr. Weasley may have forgotten about checking to see if it wore off, but I did not.” Hermione’s dumbfounded expression caused him to roll his eyes. “Everything is in working order, Miss Granger, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“Was it true what you said? That a man can achieve an orgasm even if he can’t become erect?” she asked thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure what had prompted this line of questioning but it seemed to dispel the tension between them.

“It is a laborious task, but yes, it can be achieved.”

She nodded her head. “Were you close? Was that—” it was his finger that stopped her words.

“I will give you a bottle of dreamless sleep if you wish, but I cannot take any more of your questions.”

She made to protest but then thought better of it. After a moment she nodded. “Just one more,” she said and quickly asked it before he could tell her no. “Will you sit with me a while on the sofa? If I’m alone with my thoughts…” she shrugged. “I’d just rather not be alone with them.”

At first she was certain that he had rejected her offer. He unwrapped his arms from around her and then stepped back from her. But when she watched him draw his wand and blast a roaring flame into the hearth she smiled. He took a seat on the right edge of the sofa, and she was quick to follow him over, sitting just beside him. Their legs brushed and though he stared at her for a moment, he did not make to move her back from him. Hermione eased back into the sofa and waited a moment before she shifted slightly forward and rested her head just against his shoulder. She put her hand on the top of his thigh and bit her tongue to keep from gasping when he let his hand rest atop hers. Gazing into the fire she felt at ease for a moment, even if her mind could not slow down. His body was warm, the flames were warm, and she felt a contentment that had escaped her for days.

Her eyes grew heavy with the hypnotization of the flames in the hearth, licking over the bricks up away into the floo. She could feel the day’s exhaustion weighing her body further down against him and she nuzzled her head ever so gently trying to find a more comfortable patch of his shoulder. She had no intentions of sleeping on the couch, or even napping there leaned against him, but closing her eyes for just a moment wouldn’t hurt. The heat that radiated from the fireplace mingled with the heat of his body, which she could feel despite his clothes, cocooned her and she felt warm and safe. Closing her eyes she tried not to mull over what exactly he was or was not feeling in regards to her or the Nigel boy from Twizted Knickerz.

The gentle tugging of her hair was what she noticed first. It was not unpleasant. Fingers were stroking their way idly through her curls, raking back gently over her scalp in a slow and repetitive fashion. When she blinked her eyes she was greeted with an unfamiliar darkness but after a moment tiny dots of orange glowed into her sightline. She realized she was staring at the remains of the fire in the hearth, though its lack of warmth was undetectable. Lifting her head up, the fingers stopped and Hermione realized that she was resting across Severus’ lap.

“Sorry,” she muttered, easing herself upright. “I didn’t mean to nod off, you should have woken me.”

“You needed the rest.” Hermione only nodded. It had been strange to wake in his lap, but not unpleasant and certainly not unwanted. He could have easily woken her, even if he thought she needed rest, and sent her along to her bedroom. Or he could have levitated her, and even if he hadn’t been inclined to used magic he could have carried her, or slid out from under her. He had chosen to remain there with her slumbering across his lap. It was a spark inside her mind that ignited a conflagration of possibilities, all of which died away when she heard his next words. “You snore.”

Hermione looked stricken with embarrassment. “I most certainly do not.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You females always have that reaction.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“I do not snore, Severus.” She said pointedly.

He scoffed. “I don’t see why you’re getting defensive about it.” As he stretched his arms above his head, he yawned. It was a very human gesture, though Hermione could not ever recall him doing such a thing. “I didn’t say it was obnoxious or irksome,” he said and then yawned once more. “It was actually a rather timid sound, more like a kitten purring when it has its belly rubbed.”

This was even more perplexing for her. She could not imagine that Severus Snape had ever rubbed a kitten’s belly in his life. In addition to that, she was being complimented or in his own strange fashion, endeared by him over her snoring. She couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but supposed he was right about women on the whole in regards to snoring. She’d never heard a woman respond well to being told that she snored. Harry once slept on the couch for a week when he and Ginny had gotten into a row over her snoring. The whole notion seemed absurd, but then again, nothing about Severus Snape was remotely close to normal.

When he stood up and nodded at her, she could only nod in return. “It’s easily half nine,” he said. “I expect Mr. Weasley will have us in around half five and if you want practice pegging…” he was halfway down the hall to his bedroom. “I suggest you rest a bit longer, your bed or there on the sofa, I personally don’t care, then have a shower and seek me out no later than half one.” Before she could question, respond, or protest, he’d slipped into his bedroom and closed the door.

Hermione forced herself to stand from the sofa. The cushions were squishy but they offered no support. The sitting room was chilled; the fire had long since burned out and with Severus now absent she felt cold. Her mind was still chewing over the fact that he had let her fall asleep in his lap. She hadn’t recalled sliding down into his lap, only that she’d laid her head on his shoulder. Feeling a yawn creep through her, she shuffled quickly to her bedroom, pulled the door closed and slipped under the covers. She had napped but her body was still feeling the previous day’s exhaustion and it did not take her long to drift back off to sleep.

The tapping on her door was what woke her. At first she mistook it for some sort of bird pecking away at a tree outside her window. But when it sounded a second and third time, she realized that someone was knocking on her bedroom door. Rolling over to face the door she glanced at the time piece on her nightstand and cringed. It was a quarter ‘til two in the afternoon. The vague echo of Severus telling her to rest and shower and find him by half one crept into her mind and she pulled the sheets up over her head, silently cursing herself for sleeping so long. Hermione pulled the pillow over her head and shouted down into the mattress. It wasn’t a loud shout, for she knew the door was no sound barrier, but she was frustrated with herself and needed to release those frustrations before she endured his lecture on punctuality and the importance of his time.

Because she was buried under the covers with her head under the pillow, she did not hear him enter her room, and shrieked when he placed his hand on her shoulder. Even through the many layers of fabric she could feel the warmth of his hand. Hermione spun around in a flourish of sheets and limbs, managing to tangle herself thoroughly in her covers. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sleep the whole while through, I must have been exhausted.”

He stood over her bed, staring at her, eyes unblinking. “Indeed.” She couldn’t believe it was the only thing he said. She had expected a snarky comment at the very least. But when she realized he was waiting for her, she struggled her way out of the sheets. Hermione was still wearing the faded Quidditch t-shirt, though she’d kicked out of her joggers in her sleep. When she finally stood up from the bed, he glanced her once over. “Go shower,” he said. “And then come back here.”

“We’re doing this in here?” she asked, frowning.

“If you prefer I can take you to my room,” he offered.

“No, this is fine, I guess. It doesn’t matter.”

“Your bed is larger, it will give you more space.”

“Right,” she said. Without another word she gathered up her showering kit and headed for the bathroom. She was quick with washing up. She took a moment to run her hand between her legs, surprised but pleased that her menses had ended rather abruptly as the tome had described it would. Hermione made quick work of washing her hair, making sure to dry it with a charm as best she could before tying it back. She didn’t want to give him any reason to complain. With a thick green towel wrapped around her body, she returned to her room, hung her shower caddy on the back of the door and closed it.

It made her nervous to see him seated so casually on the edge of the bed. Her nerves were already on edge at the prospect of what she was about to do, but she was discovering that he was a good teacher. This was a fact that she had known all along; though he had often been harsh and a bit nepotistic to his own house, Severus Snape had been an excellent professor of Potions. Hermione hadn’t really paid attention to how he’d looked when he’d entered her room. She’d been too embarrassed and frustrated with herself for oversleeping. He was wearing a dressing robe and presumably nothing beneath it. This made her feel the tiniest bit more confident knowing that she was wearing only a towel.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Severus stood from the bed. His hands braced on her shoulders and she shivered as he slid his fingers down over her collarbone and undid the towel from around her body. It fluttered to the floor, landing just behind her heels. Her nipples stood stiff in the chill of the room and she gasped as both of his hands cupped her breasts. Severus squeezed her breasts and let his thumbs trace little circles around the taut peaks of her areolas. Hermione was melting under his touch, mewling in the back of her throat as he pinched her nipples.

She stepped forward and brought her body up against his. Both of his hands slid down her body and encircled her waist, pulling her atop him as he sat down on the bed. She was straddled over his lap, a position she’d become all too familiar with as of late. He gazed up into her eyes. “This is similar to that anal wand from the workshop, only you’re controlling the pressure and push with your body, mostly your hips.” She nodded, carefully drinking in every word. She’d somehow missed that he’d brought the harness and dildo into her room, but when he reached behind him on the bed she knew that he had. “Stand up,” he said.

Hermione was slow in lifting herself from his lap, her legs trembling as she stood in front of him. “First things first,” he said. “You want to be sure this fits,” he said holding out the harness to her. “You step into it,” as he spoke he rose from the bed, coming to stand at her side. “Just like you would a pair of knickers.” Handing her the leather contraption he watched as she took it and turned it over in her hands. It felt smooth and not unlike the leather she had felt when working with the various whips and crops in the workshop. It did look a bit like a pair of panties; there were two holes for legs and firm straps that gave it the appearance that it was adjustable.

“It needs to be snug, but not pinch you. You want a firm harness that will hold in place so that you don’t have slippage, but at the same time you don’t want it hurting you or cutting off circulation.”

“Slippage?” she asked quizzically.

“I imagine Mr. Weasley’s product will be very different as the label on the canister implies…however with a harness and dildo because it is not attached to your physical being by any means other than the harness, it is impossible to control perfectly.” He explained. “By ensuring that the harness is snug you reduce your chance of the dildo sliding out of place at an inopportune moment.”

“Oh,” she said, stepping into the harness. “Oh!” The image that drifted into her mind was not a pleasant one. She pushed it away quickly and focused instead on pulling the straps of the harness up until it was situated over her crotch like a pair of leather knickers.

“This is a decent harness,” he said. “Not my preference, but it will serve its purpose.” She couldn’t imagine that he would have a need for such thing, let alone a preference, but she focused on his words as he continued his explanation. “Does it feel loose?” he asked. “You can tug on these D-rings just here,” he pulled gently on the leather strap that was coming through the side just at the juncture where her thigh met her torso. “Again, tight but not pinching,” he said, guiding her hand to help her adjust it. “Buckles are sturdier but not as flexible,” he said. She nodded her head, trying to absorb and remember every detail as he explained it. She blushed a bit as he reached around and under her legs, checking the way the harness fit her. It was still strange being so intimate with him despite the fact that they’d had a wonderful rousing round of sex that had nothing to do with work.

“Feel here?” he said to her, taking her hand up and placing it on the front of the harness, just over her mound. Hermione traced her fingers over the sturdy ring. “That’s the O-ring,” he said. “The dildo will sit just in there, against your skin, the ring and the hardness holding it in place.” He frowned after a moment and it made Hermione nervous to see him do so. She felt his hands circle her thighs and then she felt him fiddling with a strap and ring at the back of the harness. “Does this pinch?” he asked, tugging it a bit firmly. The wide leather strap was lined directly over the split in her cheeks and when he tugged it she felt it hug her skin, but it didn’t pinch.

“No, not pinch, but it’s tight.”

“Too tight?” he asked, one hand bracing the side of her hip.

“I’m not sure…it’s not painful, but it’s not exactly comfortable.”

Severus adjusted the strap a bit, loosening it slightly. He brought his hands back around and began to fiddle with the straps at the side of her thighs, tightening and adjusting them. “How does that feel?”

“Snug, I think. It’s better than it was a minute ago anyway.”

“Good.” He said. Severus put his hand against the O-ring. “Do you feel how that sits? Just over your pubic bone? That’s where a harness should always sit, with the O-ring just over your pubic bone.” Her faced must have looked as if she were going to ask the reason because he gave a quick explanation. “Situated too high and penetration becomes tricky and more of an effort in thrusting. Situated too low and you’ll be grinding skin on skin.” Hermione nodded. She felt a bit ridiculous wearing the leather, and was glad that she wasn’t currently facing a mirror.

The dildo that he’d purchased wasn’t exactly an ordinary cock. Though its shape was similar, it was not detailed to look exactly like a male penis. This confused her, but she said nothing. It was a lovely shade of purple and she was surprised when he placed it into her hand. “This is a pretty standard size,” he said. “It’s important to have a size that is comfortable for both partners,” he explained. “You have never strapped-on before and there’s no sense in causing harm to either of us with something more unwieldy.”

Hermione’s lips quirked with a question. “When you— have you—” she blushed. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You’ve done this before?” she asked.

“I have instructed the occasional witch in this arena.”

This caused her face to flush more fully. That hadn’t been what she’d meant. “I see…but, I think what I was getting at was…erm…do you—”

“Do I…what, Miss Granger?” he looked at her quizzically.

“Erm, oh goodness,” she sighed. “Is this the size you’re used to?”

Severus scoffed. “I would not say that any one wizard ever gets used to any particular size. Generally speaking my experiences with anal sex don’t involve strap-ons…” he gave the side of her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Every wizard is different, as I’m sure you know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m experienced enough to have picked something larger, if that’s what you’re trying to ask, but like I said, you need something simple to start with.”

“Right,” she said, still feeling the sting of blush in her cheeks. “Why purple?” she asked, feeling woefully foolish for asking such a question.

This caused him to chuckle. “Because it pleases me?” he held her gaze for a moment. “Miss Granger, you don’t want something that looks identical to the real thing, I imagine that will be a traumatizing experience all its own when Mr. Weasley impresses that concoction of his upon you. While you’re attempting to simulate the act, it— like all sexual acts— are about comfort. And pleasure. And intimacy.” He took the dildo from her hands. “This particular one has the perfect texture, silken but not too soft, firm and curved with a slightly bulbous head, a thicker base and sturdy shaft. The color is pleasing to the eye,” he said and Hermione all but swooned. He had spoken of the sex toy like he might a painting one would admire in an art gallery.

Severus took a moment to ease the front placket of the harness back, fiddling with the straps. “You slide it in like this,” he showed her, easing the base of the dildo against her skin before re-fastening the straps of the harness. “Does it feel like it did before?” he asked. “Firm but not pinching? I know that it’s going to feel strange with the toy pressed against you.”

He was right. It did feel strange. She glanced down her body and it looked as strange as it felt. There was a sleek purple cock held to her mound by rich black leather jutting outward from between her legs. She drew in a steadying breath. “It feels alright,” she said and touched the dildo. It felt no different than it had in her hand. She wasn’t sure why she had thought it might have changed from leaving her hand to being strapped on her body.

Severus put both hands on her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh gently. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she said, and then blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.”

“You weren’t shouting,” he said and then started to rub his fingers along the sides of her thighs. “Come here,” he said, pulling her forward. She found it strange to be straddled against his lap with the dildo pressed against her. Hermione trembled when he reached up and cupped her cheeks. “Why are you so nervous, Miss Granger? You were not so jumpy when you needed guidance with other things.”

Hermione blushed. “Really? I think I was pretty jumpy…” She was certain with all the blushing she had done in the few weeks since she’d started the job in George’s workshop that her body was going to run out of red pigment for her cheeks at any moment. This was a tragedy she was all too ready to accept. She shrugged her shoulders, trying not to sound as worried as she felt. “I don’t know, honestly. I guess I’m afraid I’ll hurt you?” she closed her eyes, not wanting to be reprimanded for being so foolish.

“You’re more likely to hurt me if you stay this nervous,” he said. “Which will be unpleasant for both of us, and I shan’t have that.” One hand had slid down her cheek, down the side of her neck, and was trailing between their bodies. “You need to relax, open yourself to the experience, and trust yourself. Trust my instruction.” She bit her lower lip when she felt his fingers stroking at her nipple. “Easy…” he whispered, bringing his lips over hers.

Hermione melted into his kiss. It was slow, a deliberate sweep of his tongue that invaded her mouth. She moaned into the kiss as he rolled her right nipple, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger. Her tongue circled his, velvet stroking velvet and she could feel heat flooding her core. It was still a bit peculiar, having the toy pressed between them, but she tried not to think about it, as he continued to kiss her, all the while toying with her nipples. One hand had escaped their bodies and was threaded up into her hair. She felt Severus tugging at the little elastic she had used to bind back her curls and when they sprung free she moaned. His fingers massaged her scalp as he tugged at her tresses, and his lips never left hers.

Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was racing when finally he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes searching hers. She could see the lust-driven look that possessed him; she had seen it the night he’d pulled her into the shower. It had not been present when he’d thrust her up onto the kitchen counter, when he’d put her onto her knees to blow him, or even the night she’d laid spooned against him in his bed to have him guide her through her first experience with anal. He was possessed by need. It thrilled her to see the way desire rippled across his features and she felt another burst of heat low in her core.

Severus leaned back, propping his torso up on his elbows, his chest rising and falling in a quick and heavy rhythm. She took in his figure. While she’d seen him naked and explored his body during their practices in the workshop, it was the one thing their encounter in the shower had not afforded her: a proper look. Hermione licked her lips as she let her eyes roam over his figure. He was splayed out like a meal for the taking and for a moment she forgot herself, wanting nothing more than to straddle his lap, situate herself down on his cock and ride him until he was screaming her name. Her eyes settled on his cock. She drew in a trembling breath, licking her lips. He wasn’t hard, not completely, but the stirrings of his erection were present. There was something truly magnificent about his cock and seeing that it was indeed still in working order was a titular sensation.

Hermione was still straddled over the tops of his thighs, though she’d slid back just a bit when he’d reclined into the mattress and was now resting over his knees. “Lean up,” he said, nodding at her. His voice was husky and low. It wasn’t straining or cracked the way she often heard him in the workshop. She did as she was told, swinging one leg over to the side of him until she was knelt at his hip. Hermione watched in awe as he positioned himself further up to the center of her bed, his head resting on a pillow, his legs spread wide. It surprised her when he did not immediately turn onto all fours, or at the very least roll to lay on his stomach.

“Shouldn’t you…” she wanted to roll her hand in a gesture that would indicate him to turn over, but there was something in his eyes that quelled her words. He knew what he was doing, he’d done this before, and she did not. Hermione waited anxiously for him to give her instructions. The basic notion seemed simple enough, but she wanted to be sure.

“Here,” Severus had plucked up a tube of lubricant. It was the same tube she’d remembered from the night he’d penetrated her anally for the first time. She took the tube and unscrewed the cap, squeezing a liberal amount of the thick smooth gel onto her fingers. “Like in the workshop, double coated and a fair amount,” he said. His voice still held that gravelly note of arousal and this put her mind at ease. He wanted this. It was still a lesson, one she needed to learn, but he was yearning for it, begging for it, practically, from the sound of his voice.

Hermione rubbed the gel against her fingers. It was very different from the workshop, her memory had not been wrong. First she ran her fingers over the tip of the dildo, mimicking the motion of grabbing and twisting that she had used on his cock before. She noted that he watched her, his eyes following every twist of her wrist until she pulled her hand away from the now shiny purple cock and squeezed a bit more lube onto her finger. She hesitated, but after a moment renewed her courage with a steady breath and began to rub her finger against the taut ring of muscles that guarded his entrance. She wasn’t sure if she were becoming more practiced and thus it was easier, or if Severus was being more receptive because it only took a moment for her to ease her finger inside of his tight heat, sliding it back and forth to ensure he was liberally lubricated.

When she pulled her hand back, Severus only nodded and then reached for both of her pillows. He lifted his hips and slid them in a stack under the small of his back. This elevated his pelvis somewhat and brought his arse up off the mattress. “Kneel here,” he said, one hand patting the space between his legs. She obeyed, scooting forward until she was knelt between his legs, looking nervous. “It’s just a strap-on, Miss Granger, there is no need to look as if it’s your NEWTS.”

She flushed and tried to look away but his hand on the top of her knee kept her from turning her head away. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s fine,” he said, patting her knee. “Lean up to give yourself leverage, you’re going to end up over my body. If it helps you visualize, think about the way a man leans over your body just before sex.” Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. She didn’t want to picture Ron or Viktor in that moment. She only wanted to see Severus. And although her most intimate and passionate bout of love making had not been in a missionary position, their tests in the workshop had given her that at least once. She visualized the way his body lined over hers, the way he lined his cock exactly at her entrance and the way he slowly pushed himself in, adjusting to her snug walls as he filled her with his throbbing erection.

“Okay…” she whispered, opening her eyes to gaze down at him. “I don’t think I pictured it like this,” she confessed, shaking slightly as she moved forward to bring the dildo closer to his entrance.

“Not all anal sex involves a man down on all fours or facing away from his partner.” Severus’ voice was level but she could still hear the arousal in his words. “I wish to keep my eyes on your eyes, you’re expressive and I’ll be able to guide you better from this position.” Hermione nodded her understanding as she braced one hand on his hip. “Not so tight, Miss Granger. There is no need to leave bruises. Your body will provide the leverage you need.” She pulled her hand back and he sighed. “You should touch your partner,” he said and then closed his eyes. For a moment she feared he was growing frustrated. But when his hand curled around her wrist and dragged it forward she inhaled sharply.

Severus guided her hand until her fingers were curled around the base of his shaft. The velvety firm skin of his cock pulsed in her palm and she moaned softly as he guided her hand up his length, rolling her fingers over the tip of his head. She’d stroked him before, she’d worked her hand over his cock, but this was exquisite. She let her eyes fall unfocused, drifting up his chest to watch his features as his breathing grew heavy and his chest began to rise and fall in a more erratic fashion. “Put your other hand on my hip,” his voice was a growl, though it was not nasty.

Hermione obeyed and rested her hand on his hip. A few more strokes up and down his cock had him standing hard at full attention, his tip weeping. Severus guided her hand back until she was cupping the base of the dildo. “There,” he said. “Hold it steady as you press forward, make sure you’re lined up.” She glanced down between his legs and shifted forward a bit until the bulbous head of the dildo was pressed against his pucker. “You need to use the motion of your hips, bracing gently against mine to press forward. Go slowly, but just like with the wand, you have to use enough force to push in.”

His voice was strained, though not the deliberate strain she had so often heard in the workshop. This was a different variety of strain; this was sexual control that he was gripping onto and she wondered if the simple stimulation of his hand guiding hers had been enough to bring him close. It astounded her at how certain things seemed to bring him to the edge straight away. But there would be time to dwell on that later. Hermione gazed into his eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath. She rocked her hips forward, bracing on his hip with one hand, the other still gripped firmly around the base of the dildo. She was met with resistance, but pressed harder forward and he groaned deeply when she’d pushed the head of the dildo inside of him.

“Very good,” he growled. “Now easy,” he was panting slightly. “No need to keep hold of the dildo now that it’s in, you can brace your weight more evenly.” Hermione was scared to release the dildo, but did as she was told. She knew logically the harness would keep it in place. It was secured snugly around her pelvis and not going anywhere; he had made sure of that. She was timid as she pushed her hips forward, but his groan was a rewarding sound when she finally stilled her motions, the dildo buried inside of him.

“Does that feel right?” she asked, her face flushed, her heart racing.

Severus nodded. She wondered if he had spoken his answer how lusty his voice would have sounded. But her curiosity was quenched as he spoke, his voice indeed saturated with need. “Ease your way out, pull your hips back, but not so far as to pull all the way out. I know it is difficult to gauge since you cannot feel the dildo’s length. Watch the way you pull out, if you start to see the head of the toy, stop.”

The position was a bit of a strain on her knees, especially as she began to pull her hips back. It required more force than it had to push into him, his muscles gripping tightly against the dildo as she rocked back, trying to pull out. Her eyes were trained steadfast on the slick purple dildo, watching to be certain that she didn’t pull all the way out. She paused just as she saw the head starting to breach the ring of muscles it had penetrated. “Stop,” he rasped and her body froze. “Good. Ease your way back in, that’s the basic motion…in and out…”

Hermione rocked her hips forward once more, a bit faster than before, but it was still a gruelingly slow pace. She heard him groan when she settled the dildo fully inside of him, and was pleased with his slight cry when she pulled back only to push into him once more. “Yes…” he panted. She noted his chest glistened, the heat of arousal causing him to sweat as she hovered over him. “You’ll need to find a rhythm,” he said, one hand coming to brace her hip. “I’ll guide you.” As she pushed forward, she moaned, feeling his fingertips pressing into her flesh. It was difficult balancing up on her knees and her back felt taut, as if someone had run a rod down it, but she tried not to focus on that discomfort. She drew her attention instead to the way his muscles clutched at the dildo, making the withdraw motion more labor intensive.

Pushing in and out of him she found the rhythm of which he spoke, though she was certain it was guided entirely by his hand on her hip. Hermione grunted a bit as she pushed the dildo harder into him, thrusting a bit more firmly. The harness was tapping his skin when she filled him, and she noted that every time she grew too close to pulling out completely, he squeezed her flesh and drew her back forward. It was laborious; her own chest heaving with the effort of plowing him firmly but smoothly, even with his help. Despite the effort, it was rewarding. She could see his face. She watched the way his features twisted into ecstasy when she pushed a bit harder into him. She loved the way his brow creased when he groaned as she slid almost all the way out of him. Both of his hands were now on her hips, guiding her thrusting and pulling motions into a steadier, faster rhythm.

“Don’t be afraid,” he panted. “It doesn’t go that deep.” Hermione took this as an invitation to thrust her hips harder and she was immediately rewarded with his groaning. She felt a spasm shoot up her back and whimpered a bit, but if he heard her, it was misconstrued as a cry of her own pleasures. It didn’t deter her from continuing to thrust her hips, though with every forward gyration her back twitched unpleasantly. She noted that his cock was straining and she wondered if he was close to coming from being pegged.

“Are you…close?” she panted.

Severus, whose eyes had been closed, opened to gaze at her. They remained half-hooded, smoldering lust-filled black orbs glazed over with ecstasy as she continued to pump into him. “Yes…” he hissed. One hand left her hip and moved to cup his balls, squeezing them. He growled at his own touch and Hermione shivered to hear such a tantalizing sound. Her fingers were trembling but after a moment of determining that she wouldn’t fall over or slip out of him, she reached forward and curled her hand around his shaft. “Merlin,” he cried, his hand moving back to her other hip. Hermione felt him pull her harder and faster toward him and she bucked her hips to keep up with the newer, faster rhythm he was creating.

She was panting, he was panting, and her hips were pounding against him now, the dildo gliding hard and fast in and out of his arse. Her hand was rolling over his tip, squeezing his head, and her breasts bounced almost painfully against her chest. The tingles of discomfort in her back had intensified but they were almost drowned out by the sensation of feeling his head swell in her palm. Severus cried out as he slammed her hard forward into him, his cock twitching just as hard in her hand before he came. Bursts of hot, sticky seed erupted from his tip and Hermione’s hips were stilled, the dildo resting fully inside of him as his cum coated her hand.

She longed to collapse, but was held firmly in place by his hand as his body shook beneath her. The pillows had slipped into a lopsided stack beneath only half of his hips, and his chest was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. When he opened his eyes to gaze up at her, his chest was still heavily rising and falling. “Ease your hips back…” he gasped, words lost in his breath.

Hermione eased back, feeling the slackness of the muscular ring at his pucker. She pulled her hips a bit harder as the head slipped out of him, and she fell backward onto the mattress, her head hanging off the end of the bed. Her heart was racing, her back throbbing, and her eyes were swimming. She felt a fizzy tingling over her hand and in the distance far away had heard him mutter something. Her body was being eased up and she winced, but curled readily into his arms as he pulled her up onto the bed, resting her flat on her back. Her hand was no longer coated in his essence and she was laying with her head atop the stack of pillows, eyes looking up at him.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, one hand running down the side of her ribs until his fingers began to unfasten the straps on the left side of the harness. Immediately she felt the dildo flop forward and rest against her bare skin.

“Yes— well— just my back, I’m not sure. It’s a throbbing,” she said, her own voice sounding quite drained.

“You’ve thrown out your back, Samantha,” he smirked down at her as he undid the other side of the harness. Severus bent over her, easing the leather and the dildo down her legs until she was freed of it entirely.

“What?” she asked, wincing as she tried to shift onto her side.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Nevermind,” he said and put both hands on her side. “Turn over, I know it hurts,” he said and then helped push her onto her side and then onto her stomach. Hermione whimpered when he pressed his palms against the small of her back. “Nothing a quick spell won’t fix,” he muttered and then she felt his fingertips pressing down into the column of her spine. For a moment she felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes, but then there was a chilling tingle and then pain was gone.

Hermione rolled over and stared at him. “How did you do that?”

He shook his head. “It does amaze me sometimes that you are a witch.”

She tried not to blush and held her temper in check. “I mean, how did you know that’s what I’d done? I know you used a medical spell, realignment no doubt, but you knew right away…”

“Ah,” he said and then graced his fingers against her jaw. “It’s one of the first things people often do wrong. They over exert their back by thrusting too hard or with too much force not distributed evenly.”

“So I did it wrong then?” she asked, trying to understand where she’d screwed up.

“You were fine, Miss Granger. Sometimes it happens anyhow. Your back isn’t used to the motion,” he said as he eased her up to sitting. With some shifting, he pulled her body around until her legs dangled off the side of the bed. He sat beside her. “Do you feel as if you have a better understanding now?”

She nodded her head quietly and then closed her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she asked, “Who is Samantha?” There was a pregnant pause and then a deep chuckle that rose up from his chest and filled the room. “I don’t know what you find so funny,” she huffed. “I’m being serious.”

“Don’t be,” he said and tilted her chin up and to the side until he was looking deep into her eyes. “Samantha is a character from Sex and the City, and on her first ever attempt at strapping on for her lesbian lover Maria, she throws her back out.” Hermione was dumbstruck and her mouth was agape as she stared wide-eyed at him. “Close your mouth, Ms. Granger, you’ll catch flies,” he said and sneered.

She blushed and then let her head fall forward against his shoulder. There was a surge of hysteria that threatened to sweep through her and send her into a fit of giggling tears, or bleary-eyed chuckles, but she drew in several deep breaths before speaking. “You watch Sex and the City.”

“Certainly not.” He said. “It went off the air in February.”

Hermione snorted and found herself giggling despite her best efforts not to. There was no reprimand from him, no scolding, only his arm that rested across the tops of her thighs. When she managed to calm herself enough to lift her head from his shoulders she gazed into his eyes and smiled. “Thank you?” she said and shrugged, another soft giggle leaving her lips. “You probably didn’t need to tell me that…or even do any of that just now,” she nodded her head back to the bed.

“It was for my benefit as well. I don’t need you falling apart with nerves at work tonight, we’d both end up injured.”

She did not let his comment wound her. While she was certain he was right that a part of him had been motivated to instruct her for his own safety, she knew that there was more to it. Even if she couldn’t articulate it and even if he denied it. Her gut felt it and her gut had never been wrong. “How do I keep from throwing out my back against tonight?” she asked. She wasn’t entirely certain that George was going to have her test the Dick-in-a-Can product that evening, though he’d been fairly eager upon its discovery.

“Try not to brace so much,” he said as he stood and slipped back into his robe. She hadn’t even noticed when he’d slipped out of it, but smiled sadly as the fabric vanished his lovely body from view. “You’re tensing your muscles and concentrating too hard. You do need to concentrate, but ease up a bit. Gentle rocking, and I can always adjust your hips,” he said. “That should help.” He moved to the door of her bedroom. “And if it does not, I can always do as I’ve just done, you shall be fine either way, Miss Granger.”

She nodded her head and sat on the edge of her bed, not covering her body in any fashion. She noted the way his eyes lingered on her breasts before he slipped out of her bedroom. Hermione collapsed back and sighed heavily. That had been a lesson and then some. She wasn’t sure she would be able to do it again in the workshop if George insisted, but after a moment’s internal conversation she rationalized that Severus had helped her with the D2 in the workshop after penetrating her alone in his room, and that this would be no different. She rubbed her hand over her mound, feeling the place where the dildo had sat against her skin.

It was not sore, nor was it red, but it felt strange to longer have the thing resting there as it had. She closed her eyes for a moment, debating about whether or not she wanted to have another shower. A part of her wondered if Severus was having a shower, not that they needed to shower together, but the idea of him in the steaming hot heat sent her body reeling. She wanted to ask him how he managed such a vigorous stamina. She had noticed the other night in the workshop that he was worn down more so than usual, but she chalked it up to the fact that nearly all of the product testing had been focused on him. She knew tonight that would be different. Her menses was over and the entire assortment of sexual novelties was once more on the agenda.

She hadn’t realized that she’d nodded off, but when she felt herself being shaken awake she realized she must have. “You’re going to be late,” he said and then stepped back from her bed. She’d fallen asleep naked and was quick to tuck her knees up to her chest and lean forward. It was a foolish reaction considering how much of her he’d seen naked and just how intimate he’d been with her, but she knew it was not something she was likely to dispense with anytime soon.

Hermione frowned. “I don’t know what came over me,” she confessed. She hadn’t been truly tired since they’d begun working for George Weasley and she was used to keeping strange hours owing to her previous housing situation. But perhaps her overworked emotions had finally taken their toll on her body. With a sigh she waited for him to leave her bedroom and she threw on a jumper and a pair of knickers. She didn’t bother with a bra or pants and simply gathered her traveling cloak about her before moving through the house to meet him out on the street. It was only slightly strange that he was waiting to apparate with her, usually the arrived separately, but she tried to pay it little mind.

George was ushering the last customer out of his shop when they strode in together. “Good, good, good!” he cheered, locking up the shop for the evening. “Last night was really bloody useful, gave me a more organized approach to going through the ledger and seeing what was what. I think I’ve got quite a few nifty things to work out this evening. Probably another long evening but if we get through what I’ve set aside for the night, I might give you tomorrow evening off.”

“Really?” she asked.

George smirked. “Not so much for your benefit as mine, Hermione. Well, all of us really,” he paused for a moment. “I’ve got business to attend to tomorrow night— which if all goes well— oh bollocks, I was going to hold off on telling you— but I can’t!” he grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve been invited to the International Jolly Jokesters convention,” he all but squealed. “They’ve asked me to set up a booth to sell some of the products that are finished— and I’m attending a meeting tomorrow night about having a filling a few guest lecture and demonstration spots!”

“Demonstration spots?” Severus eyed George with suspicion.

“Yes. The pay is great, it would be a great advance for the product line, and for you both of course, and it’s only one weekend— about six weeks from now— and it wouldn’t be anything we hadn’t perfected, of course—”

“George, surely you don’t mean to have us accompany you to this thing?” Hermione sounded shocked.

“Why the hell not?” he laughed. “You two are my test subjects, you’re the reason that we’re making bank and then some on what little I’ve released in the store. People pay loads to attend these conventions, and lecturers as well as demonstrators are put up in posh suites with their expenses covered,” he added. “Like I said it’s only a weekend. Well— four days sort of. You get there on a Thursday, and there’s a mingling Thursday evening, Friday and Saturday are the main event days and then it’s only a half day on Sunday. I’d mind the stall for products, except for when I’d have to lecture— they’re only hour long panels, and there are only a few of them, you two could take turns minding the stall or mind it together.”

“What of this demonstration nonsense?” Severus asked.

“That’s the brilliant part, that’s what the meeting is for tomorrow,” George was speaking so quickly that Hermione could hardly keep up with him. “They’ve got a few leftover demonstration spots they need filled. A chance to show off the merchandise to hundreds of attendees at once. We’re a unique lot because of the nature of our product…and there were several members on the board that thought we might be ideal to fill these slots.”

“You keep saying “we”, George.” Hermione looked nervous.

“Well, yes, naturally you two would be demonstrating, just like you do when you test the products here in the workshop, but I won’t have the details of that all sorted until tomorrow night, hence needing to get heaps done tonight so I have more than enough options to present at the meeting tomorrow.” George was still talking but Hermione had tuned out. She could hear his voice and saw his lips moving but what he was saying no longer made its way to her mind. All she could think about was the potential prospect of having to engage in sexual activity with Severus Snape in front of hundreds of people. The thought made her nearly double over.

Severus’ arm was quick to brace her. “Miss Granger, are you unwell?” he asked, his eyes glancing over hers.

“I’m— I’m fine, Severus,” she said after a moment and looked at George. “George, do we—”

“Hermione, I’ll give you all the details after tomorrow’s meeting, I promise. Right now let’s get upstairs and get working, we’ve got a lot to get through!” And without giving her a chance to protest, he took the stairs up to the second story of the shop two at a time and continued up toward the workshop. It was somehow a done deal. They were going to be on display for prying eyes at a convention and that made her swoon once more.

Severus’ arms held her firm. “What is the matter with you, Miss Granger?” he asked, his tone more concerned than before.

“He can’t be serious,” she said, looking at Severus with terrified eyes.

“About what, Miss Granger?”

“About this— this— this convention thing. Being on display? In front of hundreds of people?”

“Let us not worry ourselves prematurely,” he said and took her by the shoulders, guiding her toward the stairs. “There will be more information after he’s attended whatever meeting it is he intends to attend. If that is the course of action he wishes to pursue, he will tell us then, and in the meantime, being dizzy over it isn’t going to change it.”

Hermione nodded numbly and let herself be led up the stairs, his hand at her back guiding her forward. There was always a logical and rational reasoning to Severus’ words, and although the notion still spooked her quite thoroughly, what he had said calmed her somewhat. She tried to put the idea out of her mind lest she find herself unable to perform that evening. When they entered the workshop, she slipped out of her traveling cloak, took off her knickers and t-shirt, and slipped into her working robe. Severus did the same with his clothes and in moments they were standing by the work table, surprised that it had a series of things laid out on its surface in somewhat of an organized fashion.

“Okay, let’s start with these,” said George, moving beside them and picking up a small pink box. “Charming Cherries.” He handed the box to Severus. “They’re meant to be some sort of insertable product for her.”

Severus turned the box over in his hand and lifted the lid. Together they peered down into the box. Nestled in the snug confines was a pair of bright red metallic balls. Protruding from each of the balls were slender green stems. She gave a tug on one of the stems, noting that it felt like rubber while the ball itself with a smooth steel-like texture. She couldn’t fathom what they were meant for and if Severus had any clue has face certainly wasn’t showing it.

George had made his way back over to the ledger, and was thumbing through the pages. “Charming Cherries, a delight for you and your partner when it’s time to pop them in.” He flipped the page back and forth. “Seems you slip them up inside of her, stems pointing down? Out? Stems pointing out so you can tug on them. And tugging is what appears to do the trick,” he said.

“Trick?” Hermione asked.

“Trigger. You know, set off whatever enchantment they’re meant to be enchanted with?” George said, taking a seat on his stool.

“Which is, Mr. Weasley?” Severus asked.

George shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. There’s a rather crude illustration with a woman tugging the stems with her teeth from between another woman’s legs,” he said and gestured for Severus to come and look at the drawing. “So put them in, give them a tug and see how they go?” he offered.

Hermione felt nervous about such things. Though the mishaps had been few in the workshop, most of them had been at her misfortune, and she was not thrilled with the notion of a product that had little else by way of description. She walked over to George and glanced over his shoulder into the ledger. The sketch was as he had described it— crude— though exacting in pornographic detail. She supposed such a thing was intended to be marketed for lesbians as the sketch showed two women, but beyond that couldn’t tell what they were meant to do. The animation of the drawing was limited; the woman lying on her back had her face twisted in what Hermione hoped was ecstasy with the other woman bent between her legs, tugging one of the cherry-shaped balls by the stem with her teeth from out of her core.

“Hop up on the— er, here,” he said and moved over to clear the remaining products away from the table’s surface. George set them on a shelf that he conjured from thin air. “Hop up there and lay back, Severus, I guess slide them in one at a time, and we’ll see how they go from there.”

Hermione did not shrug out of her robe as she hopped up onto the table, but let the lapels fall open as she lowered her back onto the cold marble surface. She felt his hands on her outer thighs and moved her body with him as he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the table. Her legs dangled over the edge and she felt his fingers gently stroking the insides of her thighs. It seemed like a kind gesture and she tried to relax. She propped herself up, bracing on her forearms so she could watch Severus with the cherry-toys. George had brought a stool over and he took a seat just between her legs.

“There is a little packet at the bottom of the box.” He said.

“Open it,” George waved him on, taking notes in the ledger.

Hermione glanced at Severus. He’d pulled a tiny foil pouch from underneath the cherries. It was shiny and red and looked like a ketchup packet that you might receive in a fast food chain. “What is that?” she asked as she watched him tear a notch in the corner.

The immediate scent of overripe cherries filled the air. Little red bubbles foamed at the top of the package where Severus had torn it and Hermione recoiled, a look of disgust crossing her face. Severus touched the little bubbles and gave the bottom of the packet a gentle squeeze. A thick syrupy red liquid oozed out of the package and onto his finger. He drew it carefully under his nose and inhaled. He rubbed his finger against his thumb, his digits sliding smoothly against the red syrup. “I believe this is some sort of cherry-scented…perhaps even flavored…lubricant,” he said after a moment.

While lubricant that came from a Weasley product was somewhat worrisome, she had to admit she was slightly relieved. Though the cherry-balls did not look overly cumbersome, the idea of him pushing them up into her in her current state had not seemed pleasant. Normally by now the prospect of being naked with him was enough to have warmed her just a bit, but she had felt nothing but fearful and uncertain since George had mentioned the joke convention to her downstairs. “Do you think it’s safe?” she whispered. 

Severus rolled his eyes. “If it’s not, trust that I won’t let it destroy your vagina, Miss Granger,” he said.

Hermione had never blushed so hard in her life. She squirmed on the edge of the table as she felt his fingers rubbing the red gel-like liquid against her netherlips. “It’s awkwardly warm,” she said and clenched her hands at her side. Severus slipped a finger into her entrance, coating her with the bubbly gel and she clenched her thighs tight. “It tingles!”

“Painful or just tingly?” George asked.

Severus looked at her sternly. Hermione closed her eyes. She felt foolish. “It’s just tingly, George,” she reported and then eased her thighs apart. She had to get a handle on her mind. It was too overworked thinking about the convention. She thought to the way Severus had kissed her in her bed before guiding her through the process of penetrating him with the strap-on. She thought about the way she’d woken on the sofa to him stroking her hair. These thoughts seemed to ease her racing mind somewhat, and she felt his finger sliding gently in and out of her core, swirling the gel liberally at her entrance and just inside of her. “I’m alright,” she whispered.

Whether he’d been moving slower to buy her time to calm herself or he was simply being thorough, Severus nodded to her whisper and continued to ease his finger in and out of her before squeezing the remainder of the small packet onto the cherry-balls. They glistened in the workshop light, now slick with the lubricant. She watched as he held one by the green rubber stem and guided it forward against her center. Hermione had braced herself for the chill of the steel but felt only the slickness of the warmed lubricant as the ball pressed against her entrance. It was larger around than anything she’d ever inserted into her body before and she winced a bit. This caused Severus to stop.

“Are you pained?”

Hermione shook her head. “Sorry, go ahead.”

He gazed at her and when he’d decided she was telling the truth, proceeded to press the steel cherry-ball further into her core until it was drawn completely inside of her. Hermione moaned. There was something brilliantly strange about the way it pressed against her insides, particularly as it rubbed against that sensitive spot that had been all too often neglected in her sexual encounters before Severus Snape. She felt the second cherry-ball being pressed at her entrance, uncertain that her body could take both of them at the same time, but as it slid inside of her she felt her walls contract around it. Her core shuddered and she moaned again.

“Merlin that’s…oh…” she groaned, feeling the balls pressing against one another inside of her. They were fitted snugly inside of her and rubbed against her walls. She imagined that even without the lubricant they would have felt intense but there was something about the subtle tingling that was magnified now that the balls were touching each other against her walls. She tilted her head back, arching her hips upward. “They feel…oh…mmm…” she grunted, rolling her hips forward.

“The lubricant is a stimulant,” Severus noted, leaning forward on his stool. Both green rubber stems protruded from between Hermione’s swollen lips and Severus gave them a gentle tug with his fingers. Her sharp intake of breath filled the room. The cherry scent had intensified once he’d covered his fingers and the toys in the lubricant. It was cloyingly sweet and sharp. There was a trickle of red liquid squirting out of Hermione’s sex and Severus drew his finger along the juncture of her thigh, catching it before it slid down between the crack of her cheeks. He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it. “It’s flavoring her like a cherry,” he added.

Those words sent a shiver down her spine. Hermione could feel the balls inside of her creating an exquisite pressure on her g-spot and she wasn’t even moving. Again she felt his fingers tugging on the rubber stems, shifting the balls inside of her. They clanged together and the reverberations echoed into the walls of her core. A surge of pleasure shot through her and she moaned. She was wet and gushing arousal, her legs trembling as she felt his fine silky hair brush against the inside of her thighs.

Severus brought his lips against her sex, letting his tongue catch the dribble of gushing cherry juice that leaked from her core. Hermione whimpered, thrusting her hips forward. The heat of his breath coupled with the pressure inside of her was driving her wild. When he bit down on the rubber stems of the cherry-balls, Hermione cried out, arching her hips up from the edge of the table. A jolt of pleasure shot through her as he began to tug on the stems with his teeth, pulling the balls inside of her. “Oh gods…” she cried, feeling them turn over one another. Her core shook with spasms and she could feel herself coming undone. It seemed absurd; how could she be on the brink of an orgasm when all he’d done was slide lubricated steel balls inside of her?

He let one of the rubber stems slip from his mouth, tugging only one. Hermione quivered and quaked as the ball began to emerge from between her lips, gushes of cherry juice sliding out with it. As Severus tugged the stem more firmly, the cherry steel ball rolled forward, and Hermione gripped the edge of the table hard, feeling the echoes of the balls against her inner walls. They were like magnets, pressing and pulling against her walls to draw close to one another and it was an insanely delightful torture that she could not describe. The weight of the balls pinched against her g-spot, sending echoes of vibrations through her as one was pulled away from the other.

“There is resistance, as if they refuse to be separated,” said Severus, taking the stem once more in his fingers to tug it.

“Fuck…” she cried, feeling as if a vibrating metal ball was sending pulses directly against her g-spot. “Don’t stop tugging…” she panted, trying to squeeze her thighs shut to keep the delicious friction of the cherries going inside of her. Her thighs were coated liberally in the cherry juice, as was his hand, his lips still sticky with the taste of it. Hermione held one hand just over her mound, thumb frantically searching for her clit. She ground her thumb against her swollen nub, body shuddering as she found release, too lost in the overwhelming sensations created by the cherries to care how wanton she looked in that moment.

She was panting and slumped forward. A cry tore from her lips as Severus more forcefully tugged the first and then the second stem from between her legs, a flood of cherry juice squirting from between her legs as he did. She pitched over, but Severus was on his feet before she could fall from the table, hear head falling squarely against his chest. With the cherries in his hand, which was drenched in juice, he looked at George. “I don’t know to what end you’ve intended them, they are entirely too messy, but their physical effect on Ms. Granger seems to be most pleasing.”

Hermione could hear her name and took several deep breaths trying to return her body to normal. It had been an orgasm, but unlike any orgasm she’d ever experienced. It had felt surreal. It wasn’t the strongest climax she’d ever achieved, and perhaps not the most sensual one either but it was certainly very different. It had felt cerebral somehow, like her mind had gone fuzzy with warmth and ease, all the while her body was tuned to a pitch generated by the cherry balls. When she lifted her head from Severus’ chest, she shook her head. “I could feel myself literally gushing with juice,” she blushed when she spoke the words. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that wet,” she said much more quietly, hoping that only Severus had heard her.

It took him several moments to clean up. The table was sticky where she had sat on its edge, but a few sprays of the all-purpose solvent they’d been using had things cleared away. Hermione drew her robe around her figure, feeling embarrassed that she’d gotten so carried away in the sensations of the cherry balls. “I’ve never felt anything like that,” she said to George, watching as he scribbled frantically in the ledger. “And I’m sorry I don’t have a better description. The lube was tingly but warm, and then it was like feeling some sort of vibration but in the best way possible. It was a truly marvelous sensation.”

He paused a moment, dipped his quill in the inkpot, and then grinned up at her. “You seemed like you were enjoying them. I’m not sure I’ll put them on the list for the convention as they are quite messy, but I imagine if that’s foreplay…fucking straight after would be a squeal.”

Hermione tried only to focus on the latter part of his statement. She turned away from George and looked at the shelf. “What’s next?”

“Um, I think I’d wanted to try out the Milk Duds,” he said. George plucked up a little yellow pot from the shelf. It was a rounded glass pot with a yellow screw-top lid over it. “Here,” he said.

She took the pot in her hand and carefully unscrewed the lid. Inside the pot were several little rounded chunks of what looked like chocolate. She drew the pot up under her nose and sniffed. They were odorless. Hermione plucked up a single rounded chunk and scrutinized it. “What exactly am I meant to do with it?” she asked.

George was once again flipping through pages in his ledger. “Milk Duds…says here…they’re an intimate surprise for unconventional fun…” he frowned, running his finger over the page. “And there’s some sort of formula for what looks like an engorging charm,” he added. “Severus, take a look at this.”

Severus moved over to George and glanced down into the ledger. “It does appear to be a derivative of an engorgement charm,” he said. “To what purpose?”

George shrugged. “I don’t know. But they’re here in about four pages of things to do with girls so presumably they’re for Hermione. It does say ingest according to preference.”

“Wonderful,” Hermione muttered. “Am I meant to swallow it? Chew it?” She prayed that it tasted better than it looked. It felt a bit like a rock in her hand.

“Well, give it a go then,” George said.

Hermione cast a wary glance at Severus but he was still reading the notes in the ledger. She sighed and then placed the brown chunk on her tongue. It wasn’t unpleasant, though truth be told she couldn’t taste much of anything. A hint of a sugary taste that was slightly burnt, perhaps a bit like caramel. As she swallowed the thing, it left a lingering taste of something uncertain on her tongue. She waited a moment and then shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”

She had spoken to soon. There was a sudden tightness in her chest. But not in her chest so much as it was on her chest. Hermione felt as if the skin across her breasts had been drawn taut and stretched in a way that felt as if she were going to burst out of her own breasts. “Holy fuck,” she heard George say. Her robe had been drawn around her but she felt the chill of the room and glanced down at her chest. Ingesting the lone caramel-like rock chunk had caused her breasts to nearly double in size.

Hermione’s eyes were wide in disbelief. Her nipples were stiff, pointing slightly upward and she could not take her eyes off her breasts. Though her breasts had always been average, as she’d never considered them to be overly large or undersized, they had never sat up quite as perky as they were now. She blushed furiously as she found herself cupping them in her hands. They jiggled with a heavy weight that she was not used to. “Oh my goodness,” she said and then blushed again. She felt a bit like a porn star and knew she must have looked ridiculous.

“Severus, give them a squeeze, and perhaps a once over with your tongue,” said George.

She felt her stomach tighten into a not. It was almost like the very first night in the workshop with the tinted nipple cream. The casual command of Severus fondling her breasts was not something Hermione wanted to grow used to. He stood in front of her and placed both hands on the lapels of her robe, drawing it back to expose her breasts. She flinched when he cupped them in his palms but kept her eyes focused on his as he gave them a squeeze.

“Does it feel any different, Hermione?”

“A little tight but nothing painful,” she said and arched her chest slightly forward. Severus squeezed her breasts again. Hermione could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into her skin. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but rather sensitive. She closed her eyes as she watched him dip his head forward, brushing his lips against the swell of her right breast. Her breasts had never lacked for attention during her time spent with Ron, though seldom had it been all that pleasurable for her. He was an animal, unfortunately it was an over-eager rabbit that tended to slobber and bite in all the wrong places. She pushed the thought from her mind as she felt Severus’ tongue caress her nipple. The pebbled peak had already been stiffened by the enchantment and she gasped as he began to lick a slow circle around it.

A pleasured whimper was strangled in her throat as she felt his lips close around her nipple. Hermione braced one hand on his shoulder, feeling as though she might sway forward. He growled, pulling his head back abruptly and she cried out. Hermione was panicked suddenly and she couldn’t quite explain why. Her nipple was terribly sensitive and had felt like a tingling tickle for a moment. She could feel a warmth trickling down her breast and looked at her chest. The first thing that she noticed was that her right breast was smaller than her left breast. Though it had not returned to its original size, there was a noticeable difference between the two. The second thing that caught her eye was the caramel colored fluid that appeared to be seeping from the center of her nipple. Her face looked stricken and she felt her heart racing in her chest. “Are you— are you alright, what was that?” she asked Severus, unable to keep her voice from trembling.

Severus looked less than pleased, but drew in a breath before speaking. His voice was perfectly level as a result. “It was unexpected,” he said and then rounded to face George. “Some novelty,” he spat. “You need warning labels before you simulate something of that nature. Aside from the fact that a sudden rush of unexpected liquid could cause choking, it will certainly not be everyone’s preference.”

George was scribbling so fast that he flipped his inkpot off the ledger. Hermione had lost count of how many times the inkpot had shattered and spilled to the floor during their sessions. When the redhead looked up at Severus, his face was flecked with droplets of ink. “Did she— did that little pill cause her to—”

“Swell and lactate, Mr. Weasley? Find your words,” he snapped.

Hermione felt her face flush. She tenderly prodded a finger at the tip of her still-leaking nipple. It was a runny liquid the exact color of caramel and the slightest hint of a caramel scent met her nose. Disbelieving of her own actions, she shuddered when she brought her fingers to her lips and tasted the liquid. It tasted exactly as it smelled, faintly of caramel, though fair runnier in consistency. She could hear Severus exchanging loaded words with George; the experience had clearly been off-putting for him. Despite her own initial surprise and disgust, she couldn’t help but be curious as it was ingrained in her nature. Both hands gently cupped her right breast and she gave it a firm squeeze. Only like when Severus had squeezed her, nothing happened. She frowned. She pinched the tip of her nipple much to the same effect.

“Severus,” she called to him. But her voice was not loud enough to break up their bickering. Hermione sighed. “Severus!” she bellowed, this time putting a dead-stop to the squabble that the men were having. “Sorry,” she said when both he and George stared in annoyed surprise in her general direction. “It doesn’t seem to work unless…well unless you’re sucking on my nipple,” she said. George took her words as an opportunity to slip back onto his stool and start taking notes. “I’ve squeezed…” she repeated her gesture on her breast and her nipple, “And nothing.”

Severus who had been all but fuming at George Weasley, paused and walked over to her. He paused for the briefest of moments, searching her eyes, but then nodded at her “Astute observation,” he muttered. The tables felt turned. He had been the one losing his cool and blasting George out of the water and she had managed to keep hold of her senses. Whatever it was that had perturbed him so about getting a mouthful of caramel flavored liquid from her breast, and she very much doubted it was simply the unsuspecting surprise, had set him off in a way she’d yet to see when it came to their time in the workshop. All in all, she’d noted Severus to be a well-composed man, keeping his calm even under the trickiest of circumstances. But this had sparked something inside of him and she was desperately curious to know why.

George, who hadn’t noticed that Severus was no longer engaged in their disagreement, was still rambling away trying to make his point. “There’s a massive fetish market out there for this sort of thing! Loads of blokes, and ladies too, I mean— this isn’t half as weird as that one canister of spray-on fantasy panties that literally turned Hermione’s pussy into a pussy.” When he realized that both Hermione and Severus were staring at him, he quietly looked down in his ledger. “I wonder if taking more than one increases the size even more,” he asked aloud, without addressing either of them.

She could sense the discomfort in Severus’ body. It was different from the restraint he forced upon himself when he refused to give in to the pleasures that certain tests drew forth from him. This was not the frustrated exhaustion of being bound too long and spanked improperly and it wasn’t his resolve shattering after she’d found a way to tease him. This was something else, something that she hadn’t experienced before. Hermione was conflicted. When she had felt ill at ease or uncertain over things he’d reassured her with simple words and gestures. But never in all they’d experienced had she felt anything more than nerves and embarrassment, or a fear of being inadequately prepared. She felt that there was more to his sudden predicament than that.

“Let us address one issue at a time, Mr. Weasley.” Severus turned back to Hermione and she tried to look comforting. His voice had leveled and she took that to be a good sign. There was a look shared between them that she tried not to analyze too heavily, but she could have sworn that he was pleading with her, even if it had only been for a second.

“I imagine the other side will be the same,” she said, trying to sound as confident as he often did when talking to her.

“One would imagine,” he said and then he cupped her breasts. Severus began to squeeze and massage the swollen tissue of her breasts a bit firmer than he had before. She couldn’t deny that it felt pleasant, even if his fingers were digging into her skin. She wondered if he were trying to force her nipples to lactate without him needing to bring her nipples into his mouth. She tried not to think about the practice as a whole. While she knew George was right, if there was a market out there for the bestial fur-spray then certainly there was one for lactating caramels, it didn’t sit well in her mind either. It had been surprising to see her breasts double in size, and a shock to feel liquid squirting from them. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.

Hermione closed her eyes. “Go on, then,” she whispered, silently wishing they would get through the ordeal sooner rather than later. She felt his lips circle her areola once more, his tongue flicking her nipple. But it wasn’t until he closed his mouth around the pebbled flesh and began to suckle her that she felt the strange tingly gushing she had felt before. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, and wasn’t sure that she’d ever be able to look at him again when he kissed her breasts. When he pulled back and gave her breast a gentle squeeze she opened her eyes. Her right breast was once again its original size. This created a sharp contrast between the left one, which was still sitting up high with a nipple stiff enough to cut a diamond.

“It would appear, Mr. Weasley, that it only takes a moment for the product to release and be finished with,” he said. His voice was flat and he did not turn to face George. Instead he took up her left breast in his hand and quickly swirled his tongue around her nipple before repeating his suckling action. Hermione couldn’t help a sharp gasp of breath that escaped her lips; the sudden gush of tingly warmth had sent a bolt of pleasure to her core. She couldn’t tell if it was a direct effect of the product or simply because her nipples were sensitive and he’d grazed them slightly while sucking on them.

“And it tastes like caramel?” he asked, taking note of every word that was spoken.

“Yes,” said Severus. “Not unlike a warm caramel milk.”

“Hermione, are they normal size?”

Hermione glanced down at her breasts, bouncing them slightly in her hands. She gave her flesh a squeeze and winced. They felt tender. “Yes, back to normal, though they feel a bit tender.”

“Painful tender?” George looked up at her with a frown.

“Not painful, just tender. I’m fine.”

“Good. I want you to take two of those Milk Duds this time and see what happens.”

Hermione was hesitant as she glanced at Severus, but he gave no reason for her to wait. Plucking out two of the rock chunks she put them on her tongue and then swallowed. Having two of the things in her mouth at once strengthened the taste of the caramel. Again there was a delay but shortly thereafter she felt her skin tightening as it had the first time. Her breasts swelled up as they had before but they were not any larger than they had been after she’d ingested the rock piece initially. She frowned and gave her breast a squeeze. Less tender than they had been moments ago, Hermione could feel no difference. “I don’t know that taking two of them did anything different,” she commented.

Severus hands swept up the side of her rib cage until his palms were under her breasts and he cupped them in his hands. Giving them both a firm series of squeezes, he sighed when nothing happened. “It would appear the same enchantment is still applicable,” he muttered and then pressed a soft kiss on the top of her left breast just above her nipple. Hermione pondered this gesture. He knew what was needed of him to return her breasts to normal and yet he’d favored her with a slight show of affection. She tried not to dwell on it as his lips circled around her stiffened nipple and drew it into his mouth.

Hermione squeaked when she felt a more forceful surge of fluid expel from her nipple. Severus growled as he had before, but continued to suckle at her breast until it had returned to its original size. “The difference therein appears to be in the pressure of the release and the fact that there is more being released,” he said and brought his lips to her right nipple. After a moment of suckling, which had Hermione feeling strangely aroused, he lifted his head and pulled the lapels of her robe shut for her. She tried not to look wounded, though the gesture had seemed a bit much, as if he were disgusted by the sight of her breasts.

“So do you think a—”

“I do not think consuming more than three or four at most would be wise, Mr. Weasley. If you wish us to test them up to that point, so be it, but as it stands the ingestion of more than one seems to dramatically increase the pressure with which the fluid expels itself from her nipples and the volume of said expulsion.”

George was scribbling Severus’ every word into the ledger. “Hermione, does it feel different? With two, I mean?”

She thought for a moment before speaking. “Yes…I mean it still feels tingly and a bit more forceful I guess…but the second time around it was different.”

“Different how so?” he asked, waving her on to continue.

“I’m not sure why but it felt good,” she admitted sheepishly. “Maybe because the squirting made my nipples more sensitive to his tongue, but it was pleasurable. Not necessarily the act of releasing the fluid, but feeling Severus suckling at my nipple the second time around was actually somewhat enjoyable.” Her cheeks were burning as she spoke, but she felt compelled to explain herself. She wasn’t entirely sure she was compelled to do so solely for George Weasley’s sake.

“Okay, take three this time and if the effect is similar then we don’t have to do more than that.”

While it wasn’t what she had been expecting, she forced her mind to focus on the fact that they were there to test products and taking three of the strange caramel rock chunks at a time was indeed product testing. The taste of caramel was overwhelmingly strong as she swallowed them back. Fully prepared for her breasts to expand, Hermione pulled her robe open and waited. The stretching of her skin felt taut as it had the first two times but she noticed that her breasts seemed just a bit larger and fuller than before. “Do they look— are they bigger?” she asked.

“A touch more so than they were the first two times,” said Severus as he carefully cupped his hands beneath them. Her breasts no longer rested comfortably in his palms, but spilled out over the sides. There were not as firm as she had thought them to be when she’d first ingested the caramel rocks. Though they still sat up she noted that the extra weight did not allow for them to look or feel as perky. “They jiggle more as well,” he added, giving them several firm but slow squeezes.

“Your fingers feel like they’re going to poke through my skin,” she said and bit her lower lip. She hadn’t meant it to be an insult, but her breasts felt strange. It was as if they’d been pumped to their limit and filled with the fluid that she knew he’d soon be sucking out of her. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for his lips to descend upon her nipple. When he finally did she all but groaned. There was a built up pressure that appeared suddenly inside her breast, almost like the sensation that plagued her bladder when she held herself too long. And as he suckled that pressure was released, caramel liquid squirting out of her nipple harder than before. She felt the gush and it tingled. But she also felt a gush of liquid heat between her legs and she was torn trying to determine if it was the actual sensation that caused such a feeling or the pressured release.

It took longer for him to bring her left breast back to its normal size. This followed logically as her breasts had been engorged to a size that was larger than before. She was forced to grab his shoulder when he began to suck at her right nipple, the overwhelming sensation so intense that she sobbed outright when he released her from his mouth. There was no rush to cover her breasts when he finished, in fact it was quite the opposite. She felt his palms cupping her, her breasts fitting perfectly into them now that her normal size had returned. His thumbs stroked slow circles around her nipples, which were still erect though not as stiff, and she shudder slightly at this strange new touch.

“Does that feel as it would normally?” he asked, massaging the underside of her breasts with his palm and fingers.

She shook her head and waited for his motions to stop. “Yes, but I’m afraid everything is a bit tender.”

“Three alright then?” George asked.

“It leaves everything a bit tender, almost sore after, George,” she said. “I mean I’m fine, but I think maybe just one or two or three at a time, not necessarily stacked the way I just did.”

“Oh. Right! Right, well, yes, but now that we know what taking more than one can do…I can label it properly.” He grinned and scribbled in the ledger. “Do you need a break? I know that was a lot on you, we could stop for a few if you want. I need to run up to my flat and grab another notebook, this one’s nearly full.”

“A break would be fine,” she said and drew her robe around her. She watched George mark the last of his notes inside the ledger and waited for him to disappear up into his flat before she moved over to stand beside Severus. “Are you alright?”

Severus stared at her. She had thought he might have reprimanded her for being foolish or doting upon him with unnecessary concern. But he said nothing. This unnerved her. Hermione reached her hand forward and brushed his fingers. He flinched at her touch but did not pull away. She sighed. In that moment she felt like she was working backwards with him, but she wasn’t discouraged by it. She let her fingers curl around his hand and she gave his palm a gentle squeeze. “Whatever it is—”

“Just shut up, Ms. Granger, I don’t need you coddling me,” he said.

Hermione’s cheeks flared an indignant shade of red. Her tongue was poised to lash out at him but she stopped cold when she felt the tips of his fingers ever so gently press into the top of her hand. She had nearly missed feeling the gesture, but it was there. She tried not to smile as she kept her hand wrapped around his. “Sorry,” she whispered. Even though he’d been in the wrong to fuss at her, and she wasn’t in the least bit sorry for asking after him with concern, she had apologized. They stood in silence, just the hint of their fingers touching, until George returned several minutes later with a fresh ledger for note-taking.

“Okay…let’s see…Charming Cherries…check…Milk Duds…check…Fundies…okay, Fundies are next,” he said and moved over to the floating shelf. “Here you are,” he handed a large swath of red and black fabric to Hermione. “They’re supposed to be lover’s panties,” he said and moved back to thumb through the ledger containing all of Fred’s notes. “Wear as a pair for ultimate pleasure.”

“Wear as a pair?” she repeated and then held up the garment for a better examination. Looking like a horrific costume piece that had escaped the sideshow of a circus, Hermione gazed at the garish pair of red and black knickers. They were ordinary knickers except for the fact that they were enormous and contained four leg holes and an extra-large crotch space. “How on earth…” she shook her head. “You can’t possibly mean we’re meant to wear them together at the same time.”

 

Severus sneered at the novelty knickers and took them from her hands. “These are dreadful,” he frowned as he spoke, turning them over.

“I don’t know,” George flipped through his ledger. “Maybe they’re meant for people with intimacy issues?”

“Intimacy issues my arse,” she heard Severus mutter.

Hermione was surprised to hear his extraneous commentary but it made her giggle, though she did so quietly. It was fascinating to watch the disgust show on his face and hear it in his voice. Though there was no mistaking when he was displeased with a product, there was something invigorating about the way he was behaving at the moment. It was almost as if he was a normal man with actual emotions that he couldn’t repress and obscure. That made her giddy.

“How do you think we’re meant to get into them?” she asked. “I suppose one of us ought to put them on first and have the other person climb in?” she offered.

Severus shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose,” he paused a moment and then held her gaze. “Though seeing as I’m the more balanced of the two, perhaps I should be the one to put them on first.”

Hermione knew that it was meant to be an insult but his venom and sarcasm just wasn’t in it. She nodded her head and watched as he took his robe off and laid it on the table. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he held out the double-legged underwear and stepped into two of the leg holes. It was going to be somewhat of a balancing act, but she drew in a deep breath and braced one hand firmly on Severus’ shoulder. He was solid; his body could have easily been made of stone. It made climbing into the absurd pair of knickers much easier than she had anticipated. The fabric was not uncomfortable, though it was nothing to write home about. The four-legged underwear left their bodies pressed snugly together. Moving would be impossible without toppling over.

“Now what, Mr. Weasley?” Severus asked.

“Now what?” George asked. He looked at them for a moment. “Oh. Oh! Um— well I don’t know,” he said and then turned back a page in the ledger. “They don’t seem to be enchanted, at least not so far as I can tell…” George scanned his finger over every inch of the page. “Nope. Not enchanted. And…let’s see…are you two having fun?” he asked looking up at them.

Severus glared at George with eyes that would have withered him to the ground if looks could kill. Hermione’s lips flattened and she too narrowed her eyes. “Loads, George.”

“Ah.” He said sheepishly. “Well…I don’t know…maybe um— can you have a go in them?”

“Not at present, Mr. Weasley,” said Severus. His voice was pinched. “Even if I were presently aroused, I don’t know that there is enough give in the fabric to allow me to penetrate her. Not to mention that if we move from standing upright in this exact position Ms. Granger is liable to topple over.”

Hermione huffed. “We’d both topple over.” She braced both of her hands on Severus’ shoulders once more and stepped back out of the four-legged knickers. “Do you think lying down maybe? Once he’s already hard?” she said to George.

“Yeah, sure, why not. Let’s see if that works.” He waved them on.

She looked back at Severus half expecting him to be casting a murderous glare in her direction, but he simply turned and moved to the table. “You really ought to invest in a proper bed, Mr. Weasley,” he said and then spent several moments transfiguring the marble work table into a makeshift mattress. Hermione was grateful that he’d had the foresight to give them a mattress as movement in the ridiculous undergarment had been tricky enough upright. She couldn’t imagine attempting to do anything while lying on the cold and extremely hard stone table. Hermione tried not to frown when she saw him pick up the orange and chocolate Lustipop, sucking on it for a few moments. She knew it wasn’t anything she had done to put him out of the mood, at least she hoped she hadn’t incensed him.

When he was hard, he slipped into the oversized knickers, which looked much easier as he sat on the edge of the bed. This gave Hermione pause. How was she to slide into them if he were sitting? Would she need to slide immediately onto him? She closed her eyes. “Here we go,” she muttered and moved over to the bed. She wasn’t sure why their work that evening was so taxing. It had been unsettling to encounter Nigel, but she was mostly over that— at least for the moment until she was alone with her thoughts. It had been an impressive encounter, him teaching her to use the strap-on, and things were as normal as they could be in regards to him and her living together. It dawned on her that her patience hadn’t been stretched thin until he’d seemed so disgusted with the Milk Dud product.

Climbing onto the bed, she knelt beside him and bit her lower lip. He glared at her but did not reach to pluck her lip from her teeth. She realized at once that his glare was in disproval and she blushed, releasing her lip from the bite. “Sorry,” she murmured. “How should I— er…” she sighed. “Maybe if you lie back, and I try to—”

“I’m going to lean back,” he said and then stretched his legs out so that only the small of his back was leaning against the bed. He braced his arms behind him. “I want you to straddle yourself over my midsection, and one leg at a time slide in.” His instructions were logical, if a bit acrobatic and she nodded her understanding as she came to straddle herself over him as he had said. Hermione tried her best to keep her balance, bracing hard on his shoulder as she lifted her left leg and slipped it through the leg hole. Severus’ hand gripped her hip and guided her as she slid her other leg into the knickers, easing her down until she was nestled snugly inside the novelty panties with him, his cock pressed firmly between them.

“They feel tighter than before,” she said. His hand shifted and he pushed back on her body a bit, trying to maneuver his cock until he was able to line it against her entrance. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You’re hardly prepared for this,” he muttered, his hand now awkwardly lined between them.

“I— oh,” she blushed. She’d been so preoccupied with how to get into the Fundies, and the previous experience involving the Milk Duds had been a bit too disturbing to arouse her properly, that she hadn’t noticed she was quite dry between her thighs. “Now what?” she asked.

Severus shook his head and she watched with nervous fascination as he brought to fingers to his lips, sucked them into his mouth, withdrew them and then slipped them down between their bodies. It was a tight fit with the way the Fundies pressed them together, but she felt him stroking at her slit, the moisture from his mouth letting his fingers move a bit more easily against her. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, leaning forward. Her eyes fluttered shut and she felt his lips capture her earlobe, suckling and nipping as his fingers continued to stroke her. His breath was warm, his tongue divine, and within a few moments she could feel herself starting to heat. He continued to stroke his fingers against her slit, probing gently until she was wet. She wasn’t drenched and dripping the way she often was when he penetrated her, but it was not painful as he shifted their bodies and pushed his cock up into her.

“How’s that?” George asked.

“It’s difficult to really do much,” Hermione said, noting that she was struggling with the restrictiveness of the fabric as much as Severus was. “I mean maybe smaller people—”

“Neither of us are by any means disproportionate, Miss Granger.” He said, growling slightly as he tried to ease her hips up. “These knickers are rubbish. They’re a gag at best,” he said and then gripped her hips firmly. “Wiggle your hips,” he said easing her up off of his shaft. She was impressed with the intensity of his strength, holding her up with little to balance on as she climbed her way back out of the Fundies. Severus was quick to dislodge them from his person, flinging them from the makeshift bed, though they did not fly far. Hermione cupped her hand over her mouth in a cough to keep from giggling.

“Well, you win some, you lose some,” said George. “You’re up…let’s see, what else did I want to do tonight that I can use while you’re up,” he said gesturing at Severus, who was still hard, despite the failed attempt to fuck in the ridiculous underwear built for two. Hermione tried not to look too closely at what was still on the floating shelf. She did notice, however, that the curious purple can for which she had prepared was missing. Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. While she was thankful for the lesson, and the experience had been an intriguing one; the process she’d gone through to get said experience had been less than pleasant. It had drawn forth a green-eyed monster in her that she had not known existed.

Images of the way Nigel doted on Severus flashed behind her eyes. Every fragment of the exchange between the two men was stirring in her mind. He’d called Nigel pet. Nigel had said he’d been Severus’ star pupil. Though Severus had not been particularly affectionate in return, he had done nothing to stop the boy from draping his limbs all over him or lavishing his amorous attentions all over him. Was he simply being tolerant? Hermione tried to reconcile the way he responded to her against what she’d witnessed in the sex shop in the wee hours. He was not so affectionate with her. He hadn’t really been affectionate with Nigel, save for calling him pet, and letting him kiss and fawn on him, but it felt different somehow. She supposed that it wasn’t all that different, especially since they’d shared sex in the shower, he no longer flinched at her touches for the most part, and had even stroked her hair when she’d fallen asleep.

Hermione’s thoughts flew apart when George waved his hand in front of her eyes. “Hello? Earth to ‘Mione,” he said with a grin. She blushed. It had been a long time since anyone had called her ‘Mione. “Sorry, George,” she said. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? What about?”

“A question better left unasked, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said.

Hermione whipped her head around and glared in shock at Severus. He was smirking, though it quickly faded from his lips as he looked at George. “What are those?” he asked.

“These little tricks are bloody genius number one, and bloody genius number two,” he said, holding up a tiny tube in each hand. “If they work.”

Hermione turned back and looked at the products that George was holding. They looked like ordinary tubes of lipstick, but she knew better than to assume that anything from the workshop was ordinary. Praying that they weren’t like the Tingle Stick, which had left her lips glued to Severus’ cock, she took the red tube from his hand. “And they’re…what?” she said, carefully sliding the top from the tube. It looked like flaming red lipstick.

“Lovers Lips,” he said with a grin that smothered his entire face. He was all too quick to race back to the ledger, tapping his finger hard on the page. “I think there’s meant to be more of them…because this illustration shows five sets of colored lips in all…” he looked up at Hermione. “But either Fred didn’t finish the other three or I haven’t come across them yet.”

She joined George and looked into the ledger. The entire page was doodled and scribbled, filled with notes and images. Across the top in big bold letters it read LOVERS LIPS and it was underlined several times. Like he had said there were five sets of very plump and full lips lined down the page, and the two nearer to the top were circled together. There were formulas and scribbles and sketches of the lipstick tubes all over the page and Hermione went crossed-eyed trying to read the description beside the set of red lips. “Fire…and ice?” she said after a moment.

“Yeah, I think you’ve got fire,” he nodded at the tube she held in her hand. “And this one is ice. I think he meant them to be a pair. Not rightly sure about these other three…though there are notes for formulas,” he shrugged. “But one at a time. And if I come across the others later, well, we’ll figure that out then.” He picked up his quill pen and made a small squiggle near the red set of lips. “Apply like you would lipstick, Hermione, and then give Severus a blow.”

Those words made her blush. She was certain she could spend the rest of her life testing sexual products in George Weasley’s workshops and she would never not blush at the casual command of being told to go blow Severus Snape. Or for him to go and fuck her. When she turned around he was standing just behind her and she gasped, having nearly knocked into him. He handed her a pillow. “For your knees,” he said. She had no idea where it had come from, though it looked suspiciously like his black shirt. Hermione nodded and took it from him, setting it on the floor by the makeshift bed. She twisted the base of the lipstick tube up just enough for the flaming red lipstick to poke out the top. Little flames appeared to be etched into the lipstick and she hoped they weren’t going to burn anything that they touched. She found she was less concerned with her lips and more concerned with his cock.

Severus moved over to the bed and sat down. He was hard, though not fully and she followed. It took her a moment to calm her nerves, giving head was not something she was practiced at, though she supposed she’d gotten good enough with what little she had done. Hermione applied the lipstick to her lower lip and then her upper, smacking them together a few times to make sure it had spread evenly. She had never bothered with makeup or glamourizing charms, so she wasn’t sure if she had applied enough.

“Oh wow,” said George. “Your lips look like they’re on fire, how do they feel?”

Hermione could feel the subtle tingling in her lips like she had mashed a pepper between them. It wasn’t terribly pleasant but it was tolerable. “They tingle,” she said. “Like when you’ve had too many spices.” She tried not to look at Severus when she turned back to him. She wasn’t entirely certain that tingling spices was something anyone wanted near their private bits, but she didn’t hear him questioning the product or protesting. Kneeling down on the black pillow, she settled between his legs and then looked up at him. He was not looking at her, which was strange, but after a moment their eyes met. “Ready?” she asked.

His only response was a subtle nod that she would have missed entirely if she hadn’t been looking for it. Without thinking, she licked her lips. Her tongue began to heat. “Oh goodness,” she said feeling the jolt of heat shooting through her tongue, over the back of her throat and into her stomach. “That was— oof,” she said and coughed. “It’s almost like liquid fire. “George, are you sure about this?” she turned nervous eyes to George, waiting for him to tell her that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea.

“We won’t know until you give it a try,” he said. It was the closest thing she had ever come to hearing George Weasley sounding annoyed. At least annoyed with her, she could remember loads of times where he had been annoyed with Ron, and Percy, as well as a great many authority figures. With a numbed nod, she turned her head back to face Severus and slowly lowered her lips forward. Her hand was nervous as she curled her fingers around his shaft, and she hoped that he hadn’t felt her trembling. It would not do to have him worry that she would injure him. Lips firm pulled back over your teeth, slow and easy, in and out. She repeated this mantra silently in her head.

The moment her tongue touched the tip of his cock it twitched and rather violently at that. Before she’d drawn his length all the way into her mouth he was raging with stiffness and she felt his hand clamp hard on her shoulder. “Merlin,” he hissed, his body leaning forward.

“Good?” called George.

Hermione slid her lips slowly back over his shaft, twisting her head from side to side as she pulled back. Severus groaned; it sounded identical to the groan she’d heard in the shower and this pleased her. It was hard to describe the tingling sensation as it was beginning to numb her lips a little and she could feel her saliva dribbling down her cheek and running onto his thigh as she continued to blow him. With a flicking motion of her tongue, she stroked the underside of his shaft while bobbing him in and out of her mouth. Severus squeezed her shoulder harder and Hermione knew she would wear a bruise there. The tingling had almost disappeared from her lips, but she could no longer feel them. It reminded her of a trip to her parents’ dental office when she was seven. The hygienist had sprayed too much of the numbing gel into her mouth and she hadn’t felt her lips or the insides of her cheeks for the rest of the day.

His other hand grabbed her shoulder and Hermione tensed. She hadn’t been watching his body as she should have been, and she hadn’t realized how long she’d been bobbing her head over his cock. His balls were taut and his thighs were shuddering. One of his hands grabbed the side of her head and held her still. Severus came, filling her mouth with several spurts of cum. Hermione swallowed without thinking, noting the slightly cinnamon taste accompanied by an unusually intense heat. Her lips still felt numb and when she let him slide from her mouth she was drooling slightly. “Mah wibs a nub,” she said, and blushed at her inability to speak.

“Here,” George rushed over and handed her a cloth soaked in solvent. She dabbed at her lips both inside and out and a moment later sensation returned. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Hermione looked at Severus. He looked as if he’d all but died from the intensity of the experience. She’d never seen his face look so flushed; he had never looked so radiant and filled with the color of pleasure. He was still panting, and had leaned forward with his elbows resting on the tops of his thighs, both hands on either side of his neck as if he were trying to calm his pulse. Hermione put a tentative hand on his knee, ducking her head a bit to catch his eye. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Severus nodded. He didn’t push her hand away or brush her aside. She stayed still, knelt between his legs, feeling protective of him. She wondered if it was how he felt after he’d witnessed so many things happen to her when they tested various products, as he was always rushing to attend to her, even if it was in a much more subtle and reserved fashion. When finally he lifted his head his eyes found hers and she tried to smile. The color had slowly begun to fade from his cheeks and he looked like his pale self after another moment of drawing in heavy, deep breaths.

“Wowee,” said George. “So that’s a winner then?” he asked.

Hermione could have sworn that he gave her the slightest of smiles, though it could have been a trick of the light. Severus straightened his back and then stood up. He found his robe and wrapped up in it before moving to talk to George. “The heat intensified with every movement she made. It wasn’t a tingling sensation or burning, just heat. Try imagining sticking your prick into something warm that grows steadily hotter all the while sucking you with a delicious pressure…”

She didn’t hear the rest of his words because she was too caught up in the secretive praise he’d given her. Whether he’d meant it or not, she was taking it and running with it. Delicious pressure; she was unlikely to ever stop hearing those words in his voice in the back of her mind. Hermione licked her lips. There was no residual heat or tingle from the flaming lipstick. She could only imagine what the blue one had in store, especially if was meant to be the counterpart of the fire and ice duo.

“I wanted to give the ice one a go…but—”

“We will, Mr. Weasley, but something in-between or a break,” said Severus. Hermione noticed that he sounded exhausted.

“Right,” George looked a bit disappointed. Hermione stared at him. He was a man, and a wizard at that. Could he not imagine how continuously going and going was bound to be exhausting for Severus? Even with the Lustipops and his particularly potent stamina, she could sense when he was wearing down, why couldn’t George see it? But she wasn’t going to fuss over it. Doing so was likely to cause commotion. She had no reason to protest for him, he had a voice of his own and she didn’t wish to seem overly doting or affectionate. “Alright, well…” she watched George turn back to his floating shelf. “This one then,” he said as he held up a slender and curved Y-shaped rod.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. It was a strong shade of magenta and had little knobs up and down its entire length. They were not unlike the knobs that had been on the Thunder Rod once the clouds had burst off of it. She looked at Severus. He too was staring at the toy with a look of suspicion. She approached George first, taking it from him. Turning it over in her hand, she couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was meant to do. She assumed it was for penetration, perhaps even dual penetration for her, but the handle curved back in a strange fashion and was covered in the same knobs as the two branches at the top of the Y-shape. “And this is?” she asked, handing it to Severus.

“Y- wonder,” said George.

“Mostly because I’d like to know what it is before I start fiddling with it?” she said.

George snorted. “No, Hermione, that’s what Fred’s called it. It’s a triple penetration wand…that supposedly also vibrates, but I’ve yet to figure out how to make it do that.”

“A triple penetration— but— I’m sorry…triple?” Hermione felt her throat closing. She only had two orifices to be penetrated.

“It’s a partnered toy,” he said, picking up the ledger. “Look here,” George tapped the page. The pencil sketch was not as crude as many of the others had been. Hermione looked it over carefully. “See?”

“Right,” she said and nodded at Severus. He walked to them and leaned behind her to glance down into the ledger. His body was close, had he always been that close and she was just noticing it now because she’d intimated an unexpected intimacy between them? Or was he leaning close on purpose. She couldn’t be sure but she wasn’t about to question him, it would only earn his rebuke, or at the very least a snarky comment about there being an appropriate time and place for such discussions. She held her breath when he leaned further over her shoulder, the delicate silky touch of his hair brushing against her neck. “So on our sides then?” she asked, turning her head to the side. Her lips were but inches from his and she could feel her heartbeat quicken. The subtlest shift of his head brought his nose against her cheek, and she swore that he nudged her on purpose.

“It would appear that would work best,” he said. And like so many of the little moments she had come to share with him, it was gone before she could really enjoy it.

They made their way back to the bed, and she stiffened just slightly when he put his hands on her shoulders to peel back her robe. What was he playing at? She looked back over her shoulder and swore he was smirking, though it was like all his facial expressions, subtle and brief. Her eyes opened with a look of indignant shock. He was toying with her. She parted her lips to protest but found his finger pressed against her mouth before she could utter a sound. “Is there something the matter, Miss Granger?” he asked, raising a thin black eyebrow up on his forehead.

Hermione’s cheeks filled with red. She didn’t know what had prompted this cheeky teasing fancy of his, and in the workshop right in front of George Weasley to boot. Though for all the world, George was as thick as Hagrid’s treacle fudge, and wouldn’t notice unless one of them invited him to do so. When he pulled his finger back from her lips, she smiled. “No, I’m fine,” she said, waiting just a moment before she muttered. “Professor.”

The look of shock on his face was well worth the trouble it might start when they returned to Spinner’s End. He hadn’t been expecting her to play his little game with such ardent cheek. But she was ready. If he wanted to play? She would play. She felt as if he’d been playing head games with her since they’d started working together and moving into his home had been like inviting Satan to their barbeque. Hermione climbed onto the bed, making a show out of it. One leg slowly sliding up beneath her body after the other and then she eased over onto her hip before letting her legs fall apart, presenting him with a sprawling view of her womanhood if he chose to look. Severus raked his eyes over her body, lingering between her legs for a moment and Hermione felt shivers. There was something in the way he stared at her that lit her body on fire. Her core was throbbing, yearning to have him inside of her, not the stupid magenta rod they were about to test.

“I’m not really sure the best way to go about it, maybe Severus if you get your bit in first…then ease Hermione in…” George had walked over to the bed and handed Severus the tube of lubricant. For the first time since they’d started exploring things outside of her sexual experience, Hermione did not feel nervous about the rod being used for her anal stimulation. She was finding that she rather enjoyed having such a feeling of fullness, particularly that time that he’d filled her there and a toy had filled her core. That was a delicious sensation that she wanted to repeat again. And although the Y-Wonder toy looked slender, she hoped that it would replicate such a feeling, even if it was to a lesser degree.

She watched from her place on the bed, stretched out like a wanton harlot in heat, as he carefully lubricated all three stems of the toy. Hermione was wet between her legs, the hidden flirtations that had been occurring in addition to pleasuring him so fiercely with the flaming lips had her worked up thoroughly. Severus took a moment before removing his robe completely, and when he eased his body up onto the bed, she was surprised at how he moved. The question must have been clear in her eyes for he was quick to explain, in his usual clinical tone. “I think for this to work as Mr. Weasley intends, a scissoring position would do best.”

“I’ve never—”

“No doubt,” he said, though there wasn’t that pinched look of annoyance in his eyes as he spoke. “Just stay as you are, on your side and spread your legs. Imagine attempting a split while on your hip.” While the imagery at first was confusing, after a moment, Hermione eased her legs apart and waited. She hadn’t been watching his hand so when he stroked her cheeks apart, his fingers coated in the lubricant, her breath caught in her throat. She gasped softly when he pushed his finger quite firmly up into her and her eyelids fluttered as he worked the lubricant in and out and around her tightly puckered entrance.

Hermione kept her eyes closed. She heard him grunt; the noise sent waves of pleasure slowly rocking through her. It was impossible to deny how arousing it was to hear him vocally expressing himself, even if the lone grunt had been him getting his end of the toy situated in his own entrance. His hand graced her hip before his legs slid up between her, his body touching her in a great number of places. His skin was warm, and she shifted her hips as he pulled her down gently, adjusting her body so that the strange position gave them a better fit. She peaked through her eyelids watching him adjust the rod, lining the left stem of it against her back entrance. “Lift your leg up over mine,” he instructed, one hand on her thigh, nudging her.

Severus pressed the rounded head of the Y-Wonder forward and Hermione mewled. She felt the back of his legs turn as he shifted somewhat more fully onto his back. It did not look comfortable for him. Her fingers trembled slightly as she moved them over her leg and then up onto his. “Can I help somehow?” she asked, letting her nails rake ever so gently over the wiry hairs of leg. She gasped as he ground his hips down into the bed, pushing the rod up further into her. “Or not…” she bit her lower lip. It wasn’t filling, though certainly not painful, but awkward. She felt his hand cupping her sex, fingers stroking her lips. “Mm,” she murmured.

Hermione caught his eyes. He looked to be concentrating as he bent the right stem of the Y-Wonder and pressed its tip against her core. It was far too slender to make Hermione moan, but the little knobby bumps rubbed against her G-spot as he eased it up into her. When his motions stilled, she frowned. “Is this all it does?” she said. She could not fathom how anyone could fuck in such a position, even if Severus were going to manipulate the toy by hand to pull it in and out of their respective orifices, it would be more of a workout in gymnastics than sexual pleasure.

George was standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. “Damn,” he sighed. “I really wish I knew how to make the thing vibrate. I can’t imagine you two trying to have a go at it in that— is that even a position?” he asked, looking thoroughly curious.

“I’d say not, Mr. Weasley,” Severus grunted. “And personally the thickness of the toy’s stems are child’s play at best,” he added.

“Okay, okay. Give me a second, I’ll give the ledger another look. I really do think it’s meant to vibrate, I thought I read that somewhere.”

Hermione sighed. “Well this is fun,” she tried to smile but the way their bodies were twisted together made it difficult to see his face fully. With a slight shift of her hips she felt the rod slip back and then his hand was on the back of her arse. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“I don’t want to have to reposition you if Mr. Weasley should divine some insight on how to lengthen this torturous experience,” Severus said. She couldn’t help herself. She snorted at his comment. The sarcastic bites were back and they weren’t exactly aimed at her. Hermione tried to stay perfectly still but already her leg was beginning to cramp from the way she’d lifted it and laid it up over his.

“Severus, at the joint where the stems come together, there should be one main knob, like where the three sections branch out from? Give that a firm squeeze and it should do the trick.”

Severus maneuvered his hand, with only slight difficultly, between their bodies and gave a firm squeeze to the center of the toy. Nothing happened. “It would seem, Mr. Weasley, that your product is little more than a workout for a contortionist. Even skilled acrobats would find deriving pleasure from this awkward position difficult, unless they seek their jollies in straining their muscles.”

“Damn,” George repeated.

“However,” he paused a moment and Hermione felt him shifting about on the mattress. “If you use the toy solely for a female,” he said and as he did, pulled the base stem from his arse. With a quick cleansing charm he gripped the end firmly and patted Hermione’s hip. “Turn onto your back.” Without thinking she did as she was told and gazed up at him with expectant eyes. “It’s a perfectly suitable toy for solo stimulation of a female, or with her partner,” he said and tugged on the handle. Hermione cried out, startled by the sudden sensation of feeling both stems sliding out of her and then suddenly surging back into her. “As I mentioned, they are not thick enough for any proper pleasure, though Miss Granger may have an opinion on their stimulation factor.”

As he spoke he continued to guide the toy in and out of her. It was mild at best, and she imagined if the stems had been thicker she would have been moaning and twitching about on the makeshift mattress. He was right, there was slight stimulation as the knobs bumped against her g-spot. Severus continued to manipulate the wand in and out of her, a bit faster than before, and she realized he was waiting for her to speak. “They are too thin,” she said, trying to roll her hips with the motion. “But they do bump a bit— in a good way— just inside of me,” she blushed. She still wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to talk about her g-spot.

George sighed. “Alright,” he shrugged and moved back to the ledger.

Severus was gentle as he slowed his motions with the toy and eased it out of her. Hermione sat up quickly, her legs shaking as she pulled them around off the edge of the bed. He was off the bed before she could say a word, but again she was taken by surprise when he handed her his robe. It wasn’t the first time he’d made such a gesture, but it felt different in that moment than it had before. She slipped into it and nodded her thanks. As Severus returned the toy to George, she took a moment to lay back on the bed. It wasn’t in her nature to tire so easily, but her evening and day previous had been fitfully unrestful. She blamed that on Severus and her over active imagination.

“Think you can give the ice stick a go?” she heard George say. Hermione sat up as Severus walked back to the bed, holding the glowing blue lipstick tube in his hands. “And see if you can hold off, I want to have her try them together to see if the sensations pair well.”

Hermione hadn’t thought of that. Fiery and icy sensations together might just drive him mad. He’d barely been able to control himself with the flaming lipstick, she wondered if the ice would temper that or make him explode that much sooner. Their fingers brushed when he handed her the tube of lipstick. Unlike its fiery companion, when she took off the top and twisted the lipstick up, it was not a color that indicated its intent. Instead of a bright blue, which she had expected, the stick was clear with tiny flecks of sparkling glitter dotted throughout. With a shrug, Hermione began to apply it to her lips and immediately she felt as if she’d been sucking on ice cubes for far too long. “Oh Merlin this is cold.”

“Wonderful,” Severus rolled his eyes.

Hermione looked at him. His face was neutral, but she had heard his tone. Perhaps ice was something that he wasn’t overly fond of, or maybe he didn’t like that she’d had commentary. There was something in his eyes, a look that she couldn’t quite place, as was the way with so many things that she tried to read about him. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes, trying to switch off her mind. Why was she always thinking and over-analyzing everything? Had she been so analytical when came to Ron and had that been the real reason why their relationship had failed? Surely she would not have been able to take such a position working as she was had they not split up. She supposed there were silver linings to every bad situation.

He moved back to the bed and Hermione followed, her lips shivering from the chill of the lipstick. “D-do my lipsss look b-b-blue?” she asked. He shook his head no as he sat down on the edge of the bed and once again handed her the black pillow. She slipped it under her knees and knelt beside him, saddened that he only opened instead of completely removing it. She realized that she loved looking at his body, every beautiful pale inch from the delicate silky strands of black hair at the top of his head, all the way down to his toes, which as far as toes were concerned, were rather ordinary. Bracing both hands on the insides of his thighs, she pushed his legs apart and brought her quivering lips to his cock.

He was not hard as he had been when she’d started with the flaming lipstick, but she’d taken him softly in her mouth once before. The moment her lips brushed his tip he hissed, his entire body stiffening. To her surprise, the contact with his flesh left her lips tingling and feeling just the slightest bit less cold. Hermione parted her lips and gently sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, slowly swirling her tongue under the head where she had been taught that he was sensitive.

Severus placed both hands on the edge of the makeshift bed, gripping the surface firmly. She heard him growl in his chest as she pulled the head of his cock back, already feeling it beginning to stiffen. Hermione was bold in that moment, noticing that the more she touched her shivering lips to his flesh, the less cold she felt. Sliding her lips down the length of his shaft, she began to kiss his cock, licking him as he hardened against her. She’d heard the girls in Gryffindor dormitory talk about kissing their boyfriend’s brooms as foreplay and figured this wasn’t much different, only that Severus wasn’t her boyfriend.

But it earned her the sort of response she’d been expecting as Severus groaned, his hips bucking forward. He was rock hard, his cock jutting upward against her lips, twitching as if trying to find the heat of her mouth. He was thick; she’d never spent much time examining his cock as she’d always been quick to test the product they were working with and do so well. Or to have him inside of her and filling her until she crashed onto the sands of orgasmic bliss. Pausing for a moment earned her a growl from him, which triggered a shot of pure pleasure in her core. The sounds he made were enough to have her dripping without ever touching her. He was less restrained, whether because he no longer felt the need to hold himself back or because it was too tiresome to do so she wasn’t sure, but she loved every blissful second of it.

Dragging her lips around his cock, licking and kissing the velvety rod from the base to the tip and back, she grew bolder still and let her lips slide down over his balls. Severus’ hand grabbed her shoulder, pressing hard against the same place he’d grabbed her before and she tried not to whimper. His grip was tight and she knew that he was caught up in the moment, but it was still intense. Her lips were no longer shivering. Touching his balls had brought her a warm tingling sensation and she dared drawing one into her mouth, sucking him with sweet strokes of her tongue. This brought his other hand to her other shoulder and she was all too quickly reminded of how rapidly he’d come undone a little while ago.

Hermione was slow and deliberate sucking his ball as she drew her mouth back. “George…” she was just the slightest hint out of breath. “I need the flame stick…if you want me to test them together…” She glanced up at Severus, who was panting and had his eyes closed. She licked her lips, wishing she hadn’t as her tongue took on a cold chill. “And that cleansing cloth,” she added, calling back over her shoulder. George was by her side in a moment with the cleansing cloth and the red lipstick tube. She patted her lips with the cloth and then paused for a moment wondering if she should do her top lip in flames and her bottom lip in ice or vice versa. And then it occurred to her that she should do the left side of her top and bottom lip in flames and the right in ice. But she didn’t waste time thinking it through much longer. Settling for ice on top and fire on the bottom, she smacked her lips together for good measure, earning her a gasp from George. “What?”

“It’s like your lips turned into amethysts,” he said. “They’re purple and they’re glowing.”

She wanted a mirror in that moment, but turned her head back to Severus. Leaning down once more she pressed a delicate kiss against his balls. Severus moaned; the sound tore through his chest like it was a missile solely seeking her ear. Hermione laved her tongue over his balls, pumping her hand around the base of his shaft as she sucked his sac into her mouth, widening her lips as she had done when she’d tested the Fluffer Nutter toy. Her mouth was full; the heady and masculine scent and taste that was uniquely him making her head swim with arousal and she wanted to move her other hand down between the folds of her robe and touch herself.

Moving her lips firmly back she released his balls from her mouth and slid her lips up the underside of his shaft. Severus groaned and his hips rocked against her even before she’d slipped her mouth back over his length. It took only a few pulls of her enchanted lips over his cock before he was holding his hands hard against the side of her face, and spurting his release into her mouth. Hermione swallowed him as she did before, the taste of him exquisite without all the curious flavors of the Jizz Juicers mingled into his seed. She’d barely released his shaft from her mouth when he collapsed back onto the bed. Hermione scrambled to her feet and leaned over him. “Are you alright?” she asked. He was panting hard, eyes closed, chest heaving. “Severus?”

Severus waved his hand at her, a feeble gesture, but it was enough. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She’d never seen him collapse in that fashion. Perhaps the lipsticks worn together had been a tad too intense, but she wasn’t going to pester him in that moment for details. But George Weasley was. He’d come over to the side of the bed without missing a beat, sat down on the corner, quill in hand and stared at Severus. “So, good then?”

Hermione contemplated picking up the pillow she’d used for her knees to throttle at George. But instead she eased Severus’ robe over his body, closing his torso and lap from view. She let her hand linger just at the top of his shoulder, the pads of her fingers touching his skin. It was a reassurance more for herself than for him. “Give him a minute, George, you’d be pretty knackered if you felt what he’d just felt.” She couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth. Her eyes flew to Severus’ face, expecting annoyance to dominate his expression given that she’d spoken for him, but his eyes were still closed. It took several moments for his breathing to return to normal, his chest slowing into a steady rhythm before he opened his eyes and sat up. She was cautious, letting her hand trail down his back as he moved. Hermione felt protective of him, as if George were a nosy reporter from The Prophet. She shook that notion from her mind; they were working, George was doing his job just as she and Severus had done theirs.

“How was the icy one? And what was it like with both of them?” George articulated his questions.

“Intense,” he started, but then cleared his throat. Hermione had never heard him sound so hoarse. It was strange, knowing that she was partly responsible for the sensations that had all but broken him, and though she wished they had been under slightly different circumstances— mainly at Spinner’s End in the privacy of her bedroom or their bathroom— she found herself feeling just a bit proud that she’d had a hand in the experience. She startled when Severus turned his head to the side and gazed at her. “You were sucking the heat out of my skin and transferring the chill of that ice,” he said.

Hermione’s face flushed. She had noticed that when her lips had made contact with his cock that they’d felt less cold and stopped shivering, but she hadn’t realized that it had been a thermal transfer. “I’m—”

He turned his head back to George. “She was sucking my balls so hard, I swear I could see stars giving birth to planets,” he muttered. “Together their combined intensities brought about a climax the likes of which I cannot say I have ever experienced, and while immensely pleasurable, it does a number on ones anatomy and overall physicality. I would market it with extraordinary caution, as lesser prepared wizards may not be able to handle such a thing.”

George was bouncing up and down on his feet and looked as if he might take off and suddenly rocket skyward. “Well fuck me!” he exclaimed. “That’s bloody brilliant!” He raced back to his little desk, slamming the ledger down in haste, and began scribbling notes like a madman.

“Are you alright?” she whispered after a moment. “I didn’t mean to—”

Severus placed his finger upon her lips. “I am fine, Miss Granger,” he said. “Do us both a favor and stop worrying so intently,” he added and then stood from the bed. “Mr. Weasley, might I suggest that when pairing them, you do exactly as Miss Granger has done by placing the icier one on her top lip and the red one on her bottom lip. The effect of heat on the underside of the shaft is exquisite particularly when there is a polar opposite sliding across the top.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he said, scribbling with faster motions. Hermione was certain he was going to catch the ledger on fire. He continued scribbling and Severus continued talking and Hermione tried to listen but her mind was drifting. She replayed his touches, the sounds he made as she’d blown him with the thermal lipsticks, and the way he’d come hot and heavy in her mouth. That was something she could get used to. The taste of him lingering in her mouth and the way he’d collapsed afterward, those notions were something that pleased her greatly. She licked her lips, noting that they still tingled slightly, and she drew up the cleansing cloth. When she moved to stand beside George, he looked up at her. “One for you now, yeah?” he said. “I think Severus has earned another break.”

She nodded her head. “Alright, what did you have in mind?”

“I think this was meant to be a part of the Fantasy Panty Spray Line, or maybe it’s the sequel to that line or a series all its own...” George was holding a turquoise colored spray can that appeared to be dotted with stenciled on seashells. “I think it’s meant to give you a mermaid look,” he said with a shrug and then handed the can to Severus.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and stood up, easing back out of her robes. She’d been through the worst of it, so she supposed, with the fur-spray that had left her completely covered. And the remedy had been as embarrassing as the incident. She trusted whatever the results of the can were that they would not be nearly as hellacious as a painstaking hour of fur removal at Severus’ hands. Waiting for Severus to spray her, she stood with her legs spread apart, her arms crossed just under her chest.

Depressing the nozzle, Severus sprayed the can across the front of her lower abdomen after shaking it a few times at George’s suggestion. A thick turquoise cloud swirled out of the can’s tip, almost like the smoke of a genie consuming her body as it unfurled. Hermione coughed a little and closed her eyes, feeling the cloud sweep over her, between her legs, up around her breasts, and over her back. “Goodness!” she cried, coughing a bit more as the cloud of turquoise mist engulfed her completely.

“Hermione?” George called. “Are you alright?”

She was coughing and waving her arms trying to push the mist away, but to no avail. The ground felt unsteady beneath her and she pitched backward, crying out as she did. There were no strong arms to grab her. She hit the floor and cried out once more, pain shooting up through her backside from landing so hard on it. “Oh hell,” she fussed and tried to push herself upright. But her legs felt funny. “What in the name of Merlin…” she couldn’t see through the mist, though it was slowly beginning to clear. As it did, she gazed up at Severus, who was frowning down at her, examining the length of her body. Hermione closed her eyes. “I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,” she muttered.

“Blimey, Hermione,” said George. “You look like…” he was giggling a bit, which did nothing to ease Hermione’s mind. “Well, you look like a mermaid.”

Opening her eyes the first thing she noticed was that her legs were missing. In their stead was a shimmery turquoise tail, long and elegant, split into slivers of fins at the end. “Oh Merlin,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. The second things she noticed was the way her arms brushed against the rough exterior of shells that were strapped over her breasts, barely hiding them from view. As she gazed down at her chest, her hair fell forward into her face and she noticed beats of seaweed and kelp threaded into her tresses. “Well this is lovely, I’m sure,” she said with a frown. “But what in the world am I meant to do with it?”

Severus was still gazing over the length of her body. He shook his head. “Purely novel,” he muttered. “I imagine that it would suit anyone who was inclined to such a fantastical creature,” he said gesturing at Hermione. “For the purposes of fulfilling fantasy role playing…” he seemed to be addressing George. “A mermaid to provide unexpected oral pleasure…things of that nature…”

Hermione wriggled her tail. It flopped on the floor. “And when I wish to be done with being completely useless out of the water?” She had to admit it was a pleasing aesthetic, even if its purposes were limited.

George looked at Severus. “I guess a simple Finite Incantum?” he suggested.

“You guess, Mr. Weasley?” Severus narrowed his eyes at him. But he did not continue to scrutinize George. Retrieving his wand, he muttered the spell, and much to everyone’s surprise, the shimmering scales, salted shells, and strands of kelp vanished from sight, leaving Hermione sprawled naked on the floor. George had fled back to his ledger to take notes, turning the can over and over as he did. Severus offered her his hand, which she took, and helped her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile.

“Do your legs feel numb?” he asked.

Hermione wiggled her toes and shifted her weight on her feet. “No, they feel fine, actually. It wasn’t unpleasant…that— well whatever he’s calling it, just bizarre.”

“Indeed,” he said. She tried not to smile when he draped her robe over her shoulders. “Will that be all, Mr. Weasley?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, that’s fine for tonight, we got heaps done. I actually can’t wait to attend the meeting tomorrow,” he beamed. “So enjoy tomorrow off and I’ll send you an owl about a time for Thursday night,” he waved them off and went about tinkering with the nozzle head on the turquoise can. Hermione had forgotten, even if it only had been for a moment, about the Joke Convention and the demonstration spots that George was all too eager to have them fill. But her stomach filled with dread as she dressed in silence beside Severus. When they had collected their satchels of payment and made their way down onto the street, it was well past midnight.

“I have business to attend to,” he said to her with a curt nod. He’d nearly apparated away but the grip of her hand on his wrist held him in place.

“Will you be long?” she asked. It wasn’t at all what she longed to ask.

Severus held her gaze for several long moments, the chill of the late night air slipping around them. “And if I am?”

Hermione shook her head and sighed. “I was merely curious, Severus, I don’t care how long you’ll be.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s bullocks. Curious, yes, but you do care, or you wouldn’t have asked,” he muttered. “Go home, Ms. Granger,” he said and then nodded at her once more. He was gone with a crack before she could protest again.

Hermione sighed. Disapparating to Spinner’s End alone, she was displeased to discover that it was raining. Even more so that the power in the house had gone out. Though she had her wand, she took a great long while tearing through the kitchen until she discovered candles. Taking a good dozen of them into the bathroom she set the pillars around the ends of the tub and enchanted the longer tapers to hover, not unlike those in the Hogwarts Great Hall. She drew herself a bath, casting a stasis charm over the steaming water just to be on the safe side. As she slipped into the tub, she groaned, the evening’s exhaustion slithering out of her.

A bath was both the first and last thing she needed. While it provided her with the physical relaxation her body required after such little rest, it left her alone and wide awake with her thoughts, which was most unfortunate. Hermione had convinced herself that Severus had gone back to Twizted Knickerz to entangle himself with Nigel. The thought threatened to bring on tears, so she forced herself to think about George’s Joke Convention. But the thought of having to perform in front of an audience comprised of hundreds of witches and wizards only made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t know which was worse, the agony of jealousy over a man that wasn’t hers, or the anxiety and terror over an event she wasn’t certain she’d have to attend.

The candles created shadows all across the bathroom. She hadn’t drawn the curtain around the tub, letting her head lull back against the lip of the basin, the tips of her hair floating atop the water’s surface. She hadn’t kept track of the time she’d been in the bath; the stasis charm had kept the water at a searing but soothing heated temperature. Her eyes drifted lazily along the shadows and she jumped when she noticed a dark figure in the corner near the door. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, extinguishing three of her candles and she felt a wave of panic seize through her chest. But when the shadow did not move, and her heartbeat eased back to normal, she squinted into the darkness, just making out his outline.

With a groaning sigh she allowed herself to sink completely under the water. Surfacing, she exhaled deeply. “How long have you been standing there watching me?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How long have you been sulking over my whereabouts?” he asked.

Hermione’s cheeks were red, though she knew they wouldn’t’ show in the flickers of candlelight. She narrowed her eyes, though she knew he couldn’t see that either. “Who says I was sulking over anything?” she muttered.

Severus scoffed. “Miss Granger, even in the darkness I can read your face like a book.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me Ms. Granger?” she asked.

There was silence. For a moment she thought that he’d backed into the hallway and disappeared as his shadowed silhouette seemed to have vanished. But then she saw his shadow moving, a slow and deliberate step toward the tub. One by one he extinguished the candles, his fingers pinching the flames of those that rested on the ground, his lips blowing gently over those that hovered, until a single candle at the head of the tub remained lit. When he knelt beside her, she shivered. “Are you finished sulking?” his voice was a whisper that was dangerously close to her ear.

“I wasn’t sulking,” she muttered. Hermione trembled, stifling a gasp as two fingers swept over her cheek. It was impossible not to lean into his touch, even if she couldn’t see him. The tiny flicker of the candle was completely obscured by the way he leaned over into the tub. She felt his fingers slide down beneath her jaw and tip her chin upward. The twinkle of his black eyes was all she could make out in the darkness. There was a daring that swept through in that moment. She wanted him, she didn’t care if he’d just come from being with Nigel, she didn’t care where he had been. All she cared about was having him, or being his, and in that moment she felt compelled.

Hermione leaned up from where she’d been reclining in the tub. She brushed her lips against his, once, and then again more firmly. She kissed him, letting her lips linger there before she prodded to part his lips with her tongue. Their tongues met, his timid as she slid her tongue into his mouth. She moved her lips, feeling him pull back just slightly. A second kiss, then a third, light feathery caresses against his lips, and when she nuzzled her nose against his cheek, he chuckled. It was a dark and heady sound that had her body begging for him. Again his fingers tipped her chin up and she blinked through the darkness to gaze into his eyes.

There were volumes unspoken between them as she leaned into him, feeling his hands on her arms, easing her up out of the tub. She was guided up over the lip of the tub and expected to wrap her limbs around him, but was instead wrapped in a towel. The lone candle flickered dimly behind her as she stood staring into the darkness, feeling the heat of his body just in front of her, though he was no longer touching her. The sound of the water draining from the tub filled her ears and Hermione felt a twang fill her gut as she held the towel around her dripping body. She took a cautious step forward, and another, and another, but quickly ran into him. Both of his arms wrapped slowly around her and she leaned her head forward, but he held her under her chin, two fingers tipping her head back to gaze down into her eyes.

“You’re foolish,” he whispered.

“So what?” she said. Hermione leaned up and pressed her lips against his. He turned his cheek to the side. “Severus—”

“I’m tired,” he said and then released his arms from around her.

“Then lie down with me,” she offered, leaning into him once more.

Severus snorted. “You don’t know how to lie still in peace and quiet.”

“That’s not fair! I know how to—”

It wasn’t a finger that silenced her lips, but his own, sweeping over hers, pulling her into a kiss. Hermione melted, returning his kiss, her hands circling around his neck. After a moment he pulled back. “You’ll lie still for a while…but stillness will turn to stroking…and stroking always turns sexual…”

“But—”

“Shh…” he whispered, letting his lips hover over hers. “You talk too much.”

“Severus—”

Once more his lips were on hers, quieting her for a moment, but he pulled back. “Go to bed, Miss Granger,” he said and stepped back from her.

She stepped forward, fumbling in the darkness to grab his hands. “Come with me,” she pleaded, and then squeezed his hands. “I can’t make my way in the dark.” She was certain that he was rolling his eyes at her even if she couldn’t see him, but when he took her by the hands and guided her out of the bathroom, across the hallway and into her darkened room, she rethought her assessment. She pushed her bedroom door closed and leaned against it. “Does the power always go out in this house when it storms?”

“Nearly,” he said. There was light from her window, though just a little, but it was enough to make out his figure standing at the foot of her bed.

Hermione closed her eyes, mouthed a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening, and then let the towel fall from her figure. “Lie down with me?” she asked, stepping toward him. He did not respond. “Severus…” she said, pressing her hands against his chest as she approached him. “Please?”

He flinched when she took his hand and resisted her tugging but after a moment, she’d brought him over to the bed. She climbed backward onto it, pulling once more on his hand. Had there been proper light in the room, her grin would have easily been visible as he leaned down over her on the bed. Severus knelt down onto the mattress and slid beside her, laying on his side, head propped up on his hand. “Go to sleep, Miss Granger,” he said, feeling her wriggle her body against him.

“Severus, I—”

“Hush, you said you could lie down and be quiet, don’t make a liar out of yourself,” he muttered. Thunder filled the air and she shivered a bit. He sighed. With a great deal of tugging, Severus shifted her duvet, sliding his body and her own beneath it. Hermione eased herself fully onto her back, letting her body press against his, pleased that he had not pulled away.

“Are you going to rest a while?” she asked after what felt like ages of nothing but the storm.

“If you stop your prattling,” he said.

Hermione grinned. “Goodnight, Severus,” she whispered, though she knew sleep would not come to her, not with him lying next to her naked body, her mind whirling. She pressed her lips up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight,” she repeated, turning slightly into his body, letting her head rest against him. She’d closed her eyes but had not drifted off, and after just a few moments, she felt his hand arched over her body, idly tangling in her hair.


	15. What You Want

Hermione woke alone. At first when she stretched her arms over her head, she thought that he’d merely rolled over, but when she opened her eyes she realized he was gone. She frowned and then hugged herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. She had drifted off shortly after she’d felt his fingers thread into her hair. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but there was something deeply comforting about his body beside her that had lulled her into a warm sense of security, letting her mind ease into slumber. The light was streaming through her window and she glanced at her time piece. It was nearly noon. Sighing, she pulled herself upright, still naked, and contemplated whether or not to have a shower. She had taken a bath before crawling into bed with him, although she hadn’t washed her hair. Debating kept her occupied for only a few moments before she picked up a bathrobe, slung it over her figure, and slipped out into the hallway.  
His bedroom door was ajar and she paused, thinking it over. With as silent of a footfall as she could manage, Hermione crept toward his room. She held her breath and peered into the crack in his door. “You’d never pass stealth training to be an Auror,” he muttered and she jumped but clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. “Don’t lurk in the hallway, Ms. Granger, either enter and state your purpose or go about your business.”

She sighed through her nostrils but then composed herself before pushing the door to his bedroom in. The room was smaller than her own, or perhaps it was that his bed was smaller, either way she felt cramped stepping inside. He was lying in his bed, sheets drawn up over his waist, exposing his naked chest to her view. His eyes were closed. Had he been sleeping? She eased the door shut and then leaned back on it. “What do you want, Ms. Granger?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

For a long moment she stood there, leaning against his bedroom door, staring at him. His chest rose and fell and slow even breaths, the rays of sunlight that trickled in through his window streaming down on his torso with delight. They made his skin look warm and inviting. He was pale but in the morning’s light he looked aglow and it made her want to shed her robe, slip into his bed and snog him until he was begging her to suck him off or hop astride his lap.

Her silence prompted him to open his eyes, though he did so slowly, not moving from his position on his back. “Out with it,” he said.

Hermione leaned up and walked slowly to his bed. It only took a few steps from his door to the edge of his mattress, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her sit on the edge just beside his chest. She kept her legs off the side. His mattress at low to the floor and her feet touched the ground easily, making the tops of her thighs a level surface upon which to rest her fidgeting fingers. She gazed at him, letting her eyes linger over his chest. He held her gaze when she met his eyes and they sat, staring at one another in the morning’s silence.

She leaned over, but he leaned up, putting both hands on her shoulders. “What do you want, Miss Granger?” he asked again. He was sitting up now, the sheets still draped over his lap. She leaned in closer and pressed her lips against his cheek. He did not flinch or turn away as she moved her lips slowly down the line of his jaw, letting her tongue swirl over his Adam’s apple. His hand stopped her when she mouthed a wet kiss against his collarbone. “Do you think of nothing else?” he asked.

“You asked me what I wanted,” she said, eyes glancing down his body to where the sheets hid him from view. Though they were not drawn taut over his figure, she could see his bulge in their outline.

“And what makes you think after engaging in such behavior at work all night that I want to do it now that I am away from work?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

“You didn’t seem to mind engaging in it last night,” she retorted.

“Is that so?” He quirked an eyebrow up on his forehead. “I recall you drifting off to sleep before any such behavior occurred,” he added with a sneer.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, bringing her face close to his once more.

Severus brought his lips against her ear. “Are you certain of that, Ms. Granger?” he growled. “What exactly did you mean, hmm?” His voice was a dangerous purr in her ears. It was a sinful sound that heated her core but also warned her mind. Things could get ugly, but she didn’t care.

“You and your…business,” she muttered, pulling her head back to gaze hard into his eyes. “Didn’t bother you then, why should it bother you now?”

Severus met her gaze and didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch nor look away, his eyes a swirling black storm as he stared at her. “My business indeed, Ms. Granger, which means it is none of yours.”

Hermione felt the heat of his gaze and could stand it no longer. She looked away and doing so made him chuckle. It infuriated her how easily he toyed with her, riling her up to a boiling point only to dangle her about as a cat would a mouse before swallowing it whole. She wasn’t as practiced, but she was determined not to quit. With trembling fingers, she brought her hand over his lap and gave the bulge of his erection a squeeze through the sheets. He hissed and curled his fingers around her wrist, making to pull her back, but she resisted. “I want you,” she repeated.

“Take a shower, Ms. Granger,” he muttered, his eyes closed. “Cool off,” he suggested, hand still firmly latched around her wrist. But she did not uncurl her fingers from his cock. The sheet separated her skin from him, and although he held her wrist he did not pull her away. “Ms. Granger—” Hermione was bold and placed a finger against his lips. She was surprised when he fell silent. Her eyes searched his, waiting to see if he would pull her back. When he remained still and silent, she gave his cock another squeeze. He drew in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening against her wrist. “Did you ever think that perhaps on my day off I wish to have the day off from sexual activity?” He asked. His voice was strained, a sound she was all too familiar with from the way he conducted himself in the workshop.

“Your body seems to think differently,” she countered and again stroked him through the sheet.

Severus grunted softly in the back of his throat. “It’s called morning wood, Ms. Granger. It goes away on its own,” he rasped. She noted that he’d closed his eyes. She was breaking him. And it delighted her to do so.

“That’s a waste…” she murmured and leaned toward him.

“You’re trying my patience, witch,” he growled as her hand squeezed him again.

“Go on, Severus,” she dared, her voice trembling as she spoke. “You could push me away, you’re strong enough. But I think you want this…even if you insist on driving me mad first.”

“You think an awful lot of yourself,” he said, opening his eyes to gaze at her.

“You must think something of me too,” she countered, though she was quickly losing her confidence. It was dangerous territory she was treading. He was a complex man at the best of times. She’d been fussed over waking alone in her bed without him, not to mention all of the thoughts from his business the night before. She supposed that he was right, that it was his business, and although he hadn’t explicitly mentioned that he was going to see Nigel, she was certain that was where he had gone. She couldn’t prove it and wouldn’t ask him outright, but she had a feeling deep in her gut that that was where he had been.

“I think you’re too bold for your own good,” he said and then pulled her hand back from his cock.

Hermione’s eyes were wide and she quickly pulled her hand back as if his rebuke had burned her. She stared at him, her whole body trembling, but before she could scramble to her feet or make to leave, he’d stood up and pulled her from his bed. His hands were rough as he gripped her shoulder, pushing her toward the bedroom door. She whimpered as he pushed her body against the door, pinning her there with his hips grinding against her backside. “You want to play games, Ms. Granger?” he growled against her ear. “You won’t win them, and they’ll leave you dissatisfied.”

Hermione let her cheek rest against the door, her heart racing. She was panting, frightened and aroused by the way he’d manhandled her. He hadn’t hurt her, but he’d been rough and it had caught her off-guard. She could feel his cock twitching against her backside, his body pressed firmly against hers. His lips were against the back of her ear. He’d stopped his words and only the sound of their breathing filled the room. She closed her eyes, feeling him and then she whispered. “Why didn’t you stay in my bed last night?” His hands braced her thighs, sweeping slowly up her legs, bunching up her bathrobe has he did. “Severus, answer me…” she panted, feeling his cock pressing more fully against her sex from behind now that her robe had been lifted.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?” he growled against her ear.

She was wet. Of that there was no question. And she did want him to fuck her. She wanted him to fuck her so hard that she would forget being foolish over him. She wanted him to fuck her brains out until she couldn’t remember her own name, or the stupid popinjay’s name. She wanted him to fuck her until she split apart and begged him to stop because she’d come too hard. Hermione didn’t trust herself to speak, fearful that her mind would get the better of her and start demanding answers to her questions. She nodded her head.

“I can’t hear the rocks in your head, Ms. Granger,” he arched his hips hard against her for emphasis.

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes! I want you to fuck me,” she pleaded. “I wanted you to fuck me last night. I want you to fuck me now,” she cried, turning her head back over her shoulder.

One hand slid from her hip up to her stomach, pulling her backward until her legs came away from the door. The other slipped between her thighs and parted her folds with a single but firm stroke of his fingers. Hermione whimpered, wiggling as she felt the head of his cock at her entrance. She cried out when he slammed into her, a full firm thrust that filled her deeply. He grunted and she moaned. Severus drew back and began to slam himself into her hard and fast and deep, his balls slapping against her ass as he fucked her from behind. Had he not held her hip, she would have lost her balance, his thrusts shook her body so hard.

Hermione had never felt sex so rough. This was a different sort of passion than what they had shared in his shower. It was brutal and unyielding and her core was gushing. There was anger and frustration and she felt it all being pounded into her from behind, her core clenching and seizing on him as he fucked her. She had begged to be fucked and he was fucking her with reckless abandon; the wild motions of his hips would leave bruises when he was finished. She clawed at the door, desperate for something to steady herself with. The sensations of pleasure tore through her like wildfire, burning her veins and every inch of her insides with the heat of ecstasy. “Fuck,” she cried out, her throat sore. “Oh gods, fuck, Severus, fuck,” she panted. Each thrust slammed harder and harder into her and she was certain he was going to split her in two.

She sobbed when he pulled out entirely but could hardly catch her breath before she found herself flung around and forced down onto the mattress on her back. His bed was small but in that moment she couldn’t care for the size of it. He wrenched her legs up, hooking them against his shoulders and thrust himself back into her core, which caused her to cry out again. “Oh gods!” she cried. The new angle from which he was now slamming drew him deeper into her. “Fuck!” she cried feeling as if her head would explode.

Severus grunted and growled, slamming himself into her harder and faster, pistoning his cock into her slickness with a passion that could only be described as animalistic. A carnal lust was surging between them and she was keening, crying outright as he filled her again and again and again. It was dizzying. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her walls shuddering hard against his cock which showed no mercy or signs of relenting. A gush of her arousal slid down her legs, slipping between her crack as it ran down her backside, which was hoisted up in the air. She saw little white spots dancing behind her eyes. “Fuck, fuck!” she cried, her legs trembling so violently that she thought they would fall away from his shoulders.

His cries mingled madly with hers; the sound pierced through her like a shot. Her whole body seized and she was sobbing in hysterical ecstasy, as she felt him slam her again and then once more, growling a feral note as he spilled his seed into her. They were panting, sweating profusely as he leaned against the backs of her legs. Her heart thundered in her chest, tattooing a bruise above her ribs that would serve as a permanent reminder of just how hard and wild he could take her. When finally he pulled back, her legs collapsed in a trembling heap on either side of her still throbbing core and she couldn’t move. The air was stifling, sex and sweat and emotions charging against her nose like the bulls let loose to run in Pamplona.

Hermione blinked, her chest still heaving. He had stepped back and was leaning against his bedroom door, his chest heaving as hard as hers. With his seed spilling down the inside of her thigh she knew she looked a wanton fright, splayed out on his tiny bed, naked and covered in sweat. Her hair was asunder; her curls were thrown out behind her as if they’d been electrified. Her thighs ached, her core was still throbbing and she wasn’t certain it would ever stop. But settling her gaze on his figure helped calm her breath. He was glowing, his skin warm and radiant with the slickness of sweet, his cock shining in the morning light with their combined coupling. “Fuck,” she whispered.

The little utterance was enough to draw his attention, though he was still gasping for breath, and when their eyes met she felt a chill run over her spine. “Get up,” he panted.

She was too frightened not to comply, but her limbs had gone to jelly and she struggled to pull herself from his bed. Hermione braced herself against the mattress but still almost tumbled forward when she stood, her body still shocked from the encounter. She teetered on her toes for a moment but then stood upright only to have him grab her firmly by the wrists and thrust her toward the door. Hermione made to struggle but the door was flung inward and he marched her out into the hallway, his chest at her back as he pushed her into the bathroom. It happened so fast and her feet were dragging on the tile that she didn’t take a moment’s notice of what he held in his hand.

She was all but shoved up into the shower, the hot spray stinging suddenly down upon her. Weak on her feet with her knees knocking together, Hermione tried to spin out of the spray but he was behind her, the curtain nearly torn from its bar as he yanked it shut and wrapped one sturdy arm around her waist, holding her upright. Their bodies were pressed together, his chest leaning heavy into her back. Her heart had hardly calmed from the way he’d fucked her, only to be charged once more by the way he’d forced her into the shower and now stood behind her. “Severus!” she cried as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head to the side.

His lips assailed her neck. Rough kisses, his teeth nipping and dragging along her skin. Adrenaline was thrumming hard through her blood, pulsing ferociously against her temples as she felt his hand grasp her breast, fingers twisting at her nipple. Hermione whimpered, the strangled sound caught halfway between a cry and a moan. A monstrous animal had possessed her lover and was now staking his claim to her in the most carnal way possible. She was helpless in his arms, but could not deny that this terrifyingly savage lover was arousing. There was a brutality to the force with which he touched her, gripping and squeezing her flesh all the while his teeth and lips claiming their purchase at the side of her throat. It was terrifying in a way that dizzied her senses, but there was no true danger to it.

Severus trailed one hand down over her stomach, easing the grip of his arm around her waist until his fingers slipped between her legs. There was a pop and a buzzing sound mingled with the harsh spray of the shower. Hermione whimpered, her body jerking as she felt vibrations between her folds. Her eyes blinked back the water and she tilted her head down to watch his hand. Looped around his finger was some sort of ring and the strong vibrations that were teasing her swollen sex were coming from it. She felt herself slip as his finger grazed her swollen nub, but his arm tightened around her once more, keeping her upright. Her breath had caught in her throat when she’d started to lose her footing, her chest heaving with need as she felt him prod his finger and the vibrating ring against her folds.

“Uhn…” she whimpered. Her nipple was caught between his forefinger and thumb, pinched and twisted and she drew in a sharp breath. Her skin crawled with bursts of pained pleasure that were impossible to describe. The shower was sweltering, steam encircling her as the water poured down over her front. His body was pressed firmly to hers, his lips once again starting their work on her sensitive flesh. Hermione trembled, earning her a tight squeeze of his arm around the middle. “Oh..gods…” she murmured. The sound of her own voice meeting her ear was foreign. She sounded lusty. It was a desperate sound, a sound filled with need, a voice not her own, cracked and riddled with desire.

Severus swiped his finger through her folds once more, lingering at her swollen nub. The vibrations were strong but not quite pressing as she needed them to against her nerve bundle. Hermione arched her hips trying in vain to feel the little pulses of the ring, but this earned her another tight squeeze of his arm and a sharp nip at her collarbone. “Oh!” she cried, her head falling back on his shoulder. His hand was in her hair, fingers having abandoned her breast for the moment to push her sodden tresses aside. His tongue planed over the curve of her collarbone, sweeping along its length to her shoulder until his lips drew back over the curve of her joint and he pressed his teeth into her.

Hermione cried out. It wasn’t a bite the way one bit someone, she’d been bitten when fighting in the war. His teeth sank into her flesh as if he could suck the essence of her being through her skin and she moaned, a jolt of pleasure surging through her belly and down between her legs. She felt her legs wobble and she cried feeling the vibrations of the little ring rubbing against her clit, but only for a moment. “Please…” she pleaded, grinding her hips around, pressing her thighs together as if trapping his hand might force him to keep his fingers pleasuring her.

How she’d been worked over into such an intense frenzy so quickly she couldn’t grasp. Her body was strung on edge, every ghost of a caress, even those harsh in their execution had her jumping in his arms. Hermione trembled, her frame falling forward over his arm when two of his spindly digits pressed hard and firm up inside of her. “Oh…oh…gods…” she cried. Again the foreign sound of her own voice met her ear and shivered, bracing both hands hard against his forearm which gripped her light a seatbelt around her middle. “Please, Severus, please!” she whimpered. Two fingers curled slowly inside of her, the little vibrating ring buzzing dangerously close to her clit without touching her where she so desperately needed it.

“Please what,” he rasped against the back of her ear. His teeth nipped her earlobe and she squealed, her head pitching back against his shoulder. Severus pressed his elbow hard against her hip, pinning her to him as he unwound his arm from around her waist and pushed her hair over the side of her shoulder, grunting as her curls clung to the back of her neck. He pushed her head forward and then recoiled his arm around her, holding her in place as he licked his tongue up the column of her neck and around to the back of her ear, nipping her earlobe once more. “Please. What?” he growled.

“Aaah…” she whimpered, rocking her hips. His fingers stilled within her and she cried out. He was driving her mad. She tried to arch her hips, desperate for the friction of movement in her core, but he squeezed her frame, holding her still. “Please…please…please…” she murmured, sounding incoherent at best. Water rushed down on her and she could feel the heat of the shower against the heat of his body and she longed to spin around in his arms, crush her lips to his, throw her leg up on his hip and be fucked until she melted into him. Her core throbbed and clenched at his fingers, desperately willing them to move within her. Her thighs pressed tighter together, urging the vibrating ring to touch her clit, but he held perfectly still. Only his chest rose and fell against her back, and his tongue flicked at the back of her earlobe.

“Please, what?” he repeated. “Hermione?”

As he spoke her name he jammed the vibrating ring against her clit and rapidly curled his fingers inside of her, pumping them with his hand as he growled and suckled the flesh of her neck just below her ear. She screamed, the shock of her hearing her name combined with the sudden motion and attention to her clit and core becoming her undoing. Hermione shook in his arms, her body convulsing with pleasure as an orgasm ripped through her. She pitched forward, throwing her hands out, catching them on the wall of the shower and nearly collapsed, but his arm held her steady.

His fingers were ripped suddenly from her core and she sobbed at the loss of contact mid climax but cried out as she felt his cock slam hard into her. The slap of his balls against her ass was fierce as he pumped himself into her, never releasing her waist. Hermione’s body bounced with the force, sobbing her ecstasy as he rutting himself fully inside of her. Her walls were clenching, her juices drenching his cock with their scalding heat and when she was certain she could stand it no more, she felt him pull out of her, three fingers replaced his cock, with the vibrations of the ring now penetrating her.

Severus groaned, his cock spraying his release across her back as his fingers continued to work the spasms of her quim. Hermione would have fallen to her knees and banged her head on the spigot had it not been for his arm. She was shaking uncontrollably and gasping for breath when she was spun suddenly and pulled into his arms. They were sinking and there was a plinking sound, something had fallen to the floor of the shower, and then she was clutched against his frame, her head on his chest, her body against his and they were at the bottom of the shower, the spray pelting down on them both as she gasped and panted, unable to do anything but suck in air.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she ached all over. Her eyes were still spinning in her head. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, both of his arms around her still shaking figure, and together they sat on the floor of the shower, the water spraying down to wash his essence from her back. For a long while there was only the sound of the running water and their panting breaths. Hermione’s trembling body turned to shivers when the water began to run cold and with an erratic wave of his hand, the water ceased to fall from the showerhead. Her neck was sore as she lifted her head from his chest, daring for the first time since the bedroom to look into his eyes.

He held her gaze and for the first time she had nothing to say. It was not like the times before when she had been too nervous or embarrassed or uncertain to speak. Her mind could not find nor formulate words. There was a bit of grunting and struggling as he eased them both up to their feet, Hermione clinging to him as if her life depended on it. When he stepped out of the shower, he lifted her up as well, before planting her upright just at the bathroom door. The towel was draped around her frame and another dropped unceremoniously over her head. And then his touch was gone.

When she tipped her head down and wrapped her hair up, she blinked at him, staring as if the last hour had been a fantastical dream. He was wrapped in a towel, his damp locks clinging to the tops of his shoulders. Her body roared with post-coital pain and she shuddered to think what she looked like. She gave a moment’s thought to the way he’d bitten her and suckled her and all but shredded her flesh with his mouth and she wondered if he’d drawn blood. There would be bruises of that she was certain, but she found in thinking about it, she didn’t mind so much.

When he turned to her and put his hand on her shoulder she whimpered, his palm landing on a tender patch of skin that he had marked with his teeth. Severus opened the bathroom door, a gasp of steam escaping into the hallway as he slipped out as well. Hermione stood there dumbstruck for a moment but then scampered out after him as quickly as her unsteady legs would allow. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice still hoarse.

Severus turned and looked back at her. “You cannot expect more than what I’ve just given you, even I need rest,” he said, his own voice sounding raspy.

Hermione hung her head. “A nap might be nice,” she said thoughtfully.

He shook his head. “I do not cuddle,” he said promptly as if preempting her request to do so. Hermione blushed, looking as if she might melt into the floor. She parted her lips to speak but his stare withered her into silence. “No. No questions,” he said. Two steps closed the distance between them and she drew in a sharp breath as he leaned over letting his lips hover just at her ear. “Go and rest,” he whispered.

“Severus—”

His slender finger pressed against her lips. She had so many questions. So many thoughts that needed articulating and so many things that she was desperate to know, all of which seemed to flood to the forefront of her mind in that very instant. But he drew his finger back, caressed her cheek and then stepped back, giving her a stern nod before disappearing into his bedroom and closing the door. Hermione stood in the hallway for several long minutes after, staring at the place where he had stood as if he had been a ghost, or as if the whole encounter had somehow been a dream.

Hermione eased her way back into her bedroom. “Merlin’s beard!” she heard the image in the mirror shriek as she closed the door. Hermione rolled her eyes. She did not have the tolerance for a cheeky reflection commenting on what she knew were bruises all over the back of her right shoulder. It was impossible to deny her curiosity, however, and so a quick pause in front of the vanity had her inspecting his work. Marks covered the edge of her shoulder and her neck. Hermione had never received a hickey in her life, but her reflection looked as if she were the poster child for them. Before her mirror could chastise her, she threw the towel up over it and moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

Aches and pains began to flood her body as she eased back onto the mattress. The rushes of adrenaline and pleasure and lust had subsided, replaced with the throbbing and stinging of where he had nipped her, bitten her, pressed his limbs hard into her figure. Her mind was racing and despite her aches, she knew she would not be able to rest. It was an inconvenience to dress, her thighs still throbbing as she slipped into a pair of cotton knickers, but she was not going to lounge about in her bedroom naked in the event that he decided to enter her room unannounced as he did from time to time. Though she doubted very much that there would be a repeat performance any time soon, she did not wish to tempt fate by exposing herself.

The memories that were burning into her mind flashed behind her eyes. He had been a savage beast, claiming her as if she were little more than an errant strumpet rutting in heat. She blushed, her body had been desperate for him. Hadn’t she slipped into his bedroom with the intention of fucking him anyhow? She had been a wanton harlot and deserved every mark that she bore and it embarrassed her all the more to realize just how turned on the encounter had made her feel. She trusted him, given all they’d been through since the ordeal had begun, and she’d longed for it in the worst way possible. Him having his way with her had been something of a fantasy come to life and she could scarcely believe that it had happened, and she wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the damning evidence littered all over her skin.

Something else struck her mind hard. For the first time in her life of knowing the man, he had called her by her given name. Her body convulsed with a harsh shudder as she replayed the way it had sounded whispered so heavily into her ear. It had been deliberate. Everything he did was deliberate, but that especially. And he’d waited until the perfect moment, her senses torn asunder, her body strung high on ecstasy into oblivion; and she had all but climaxed just from hearing him say it. Other thoughts danced in and out of her head as she debated on what to do with her afternoon. The little vibrating ring had been a strange surprise, but one that she was certainly pleased with. Where it had come from she hadn’t the slightest idea, she hadn’t seen him grab it, but she hadn’t been able to focus on much other than being shoved out of his bedroom.

Hermione sighed aloud, shaking her head. She could not sit and stew in her bedroom with the memories of that encounter lest she go mad. The hallway was silent, his bedroom door shut. She didn’t give it a second thought as she slipped back into the bathroom and hung up both towels to dry. She spent an hour killing time by creating shelves in the shower wall. When she had moved into the residence at Spinner’s End, there had been a loan dish carved into the wall and it had held a single bar of soap. All of her toiletries had been kept in an elongated mesh cage and she had toted them back and forth to the shower every time she’d used it. It took her a bit longer to unload everything into the four shelves, lining up her bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body moisturizer, exfoliating scrub, bath salts, bubbles, facial cleanser, and various other things. She smiled when she finished, the wall of the shower looking more like home than anything she’d remembered in quite some time.

But it hadn’t been enough to preoccupy her mind. With the shelves created and her belongings shelved it was only moments before images of him plowing her with her legs upright came creeping back into her mind. Hermione took to busying herself in the kitchen. His house, though not immaculate, was not dirty enough to warrant proper scrubbing. But she set about polishing and brightening the kitchen with both elbow grease and a bit of magic, intent on distracting herself from thoughts of him. An hour into mucking about in the kitchen, her stomach had given out a loud rumble and she realized with a frown that she was starving. Cooking would take her mind off of their sexual romp.

Three pots and a kettle later had the kitchen looking lived in. Hermione had twisted her curls up off her neck and stabbed them into a sloppy bun with a fork from the cutlery drawer. It had been an old habit when she’d lived with her parents, one that had carried— albeit surreptitiously— through her days at Hogwarts, and was a small comfort to her as she stood tending a pot of steaming scallops. She’d popped off to the market to ensure herself a proper meal. Not once had the door to his bedroom opened, but she tried not to think on it.

Hermione enjoyed cooking, though she’d scarcely been given the chance to do so between her life on the run during the war and her life in shambles thereafter. When she’d had her flat after she and Ron had split, there had never been time to cook as she’d spent so many long hours working at the ministry. For all the good it had done her she would have preferred to stay in and cook hearty meals that would please her pallet. There had not been any real cooking at Spinner’s End, a great deal of their dinners had been purchased by George from neighboring pubs and late night shops. Her breakfasts were often yogurt or muesli with the occasional egg thrown in for good measure, but mostly culinary endeavors had been absent from her life as Severus Snape’s housemate.

She was wearing a singlet with one of Ginny’s checkered button downs thrown over it, though she hadn’t bothered with the buttons. Her hair had dried whilst pinned up in the fork and was now a lopsided pile of frizz teetering precariously on the left side of her head. She’d sautéed Bok Choy in garlic and oil and it was resting on a plate with a napkin beneath it to absorb the excess oil. Tea was steeping in the strainer and her pot of thrown-together stew was bubbling. It wasn’t bouillabaisse, owing to the enormous deficit of spices in Severus’ cabinet, that and the lack of fish and seafood outside of the scallops as they had been the only thing that looked fresh at the market. But it seemed wrong to call her little concoction a seafood stew. Coconut milk, lemon grass, tomatoes and scallops thickened with flour and liberally dosed with pepper, a delectable lunch if ever she could recall one.

The dishes were set to soaking and scrubbing themselves as she filled a deep bowl with a liberal portion of the scallops in broth she had made. The rest was spooned into a container and sent to the icebox. If her housemate chose to show his face, she would offer it to him, otherwise she’d enjoy the remains for dinner that evening. Hermione settled into the kitchen table with a steaming bowl of soup, a plate of Bok Choy and a piping mug of tea. She’d fetched a crossword puzzle from her trunk in her bedroom with a pencil and looked the picture of domesticity enjoying her lunch in silence. With the puzzle to keep her mind from wandering too far, she quickly lost herself in its words and clues, scratching away at the little boxes on the page.

“Imagine my surprise when I stepped into my bathroom to use my shower just now only to discover that it had been destroyed by an overzealous witch who had taken it upon herself to line the shower wall with shelves and clutter said shelves with every blessed bathing product known to man.” Severus stood in the archway of the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione looked up from her crossword puzzle. He was a sight to take in, even when just standing as he was with his arms crossed over his chest, brooding away about the adjustment she’d made in the bathroom. He looked less pale than he had the previous two days and she couldn’t help but wonder if all of the additional sex was assisting with his complexion or if it were relieving the sexual tension that had been building between them since the night they’d started working together in George’s workshop. She refused to acknowledge the coincidence of Severus’ glow aligning with the night they’d gone to the sex shop and encountered the irksome slip of a boy from his past. 

She held his gaze, unable to tell if his eyes were annoyed or merely appraising her. He was a difficult man at the best of times, though she didn’t wish to cause a domestic dispute over something as banal as the space in the shower. With a small smile she turned her head back down to her crossword puzzle and began tapping her pencil down the page, counting letters to No. 37 down— a seven-lettered word for foolish. While asinine came to mind, with a ‘v’ in the middle of it she knew it would be ‘trivial.’ Hermione traced the letters in before speaking. “This isn’t a sorority house at a university, Severus,” she said calmly, not raising her eyes from her puzzle. “It was a simple and necessary adjustment. I grew tired of carrying my things to and from the bathroom every time I wished to shower or bathe.”

She heard him scoff, but still refused to look up to meet his gaze. “Your bedroom is across the hallway not on a separate floor, Ms. Granger.”

It irked her. Her head snapped up to meet his gaze at once. He was back to being ridiculous with her name and it set her blood to boil. “You keep your things in there,” she snapped.

“I keep a bar of soap,” his voice was clipped and his eyes narrowed at her.

Their eyes were set in a deadlock with one another, neither blinking nor moving. If he wanted to be a prat, so be it, she would be just as ornery in return. No one broke the stare. When it was obvious he was not going to look away, Hermione rolled her eyes and then muttered. “You keep a lot things.” She picked up her pencil and started counting letters in her next clue. Hermione refused to raise her head to look at him, though she peaked her eyes up slightly to see him stride over to the table and sit down in the chair across from her. Deafening silence echoed through the kitchen as she glared at the clue, unable to concentrate with him now seated before her.

When she finally did raise her head and dare to glance upon him she was not surprised by the stern scowl planted on his lips. She sighed and again rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do better than to scowl at me, Severus.” She said, pointedly letting her tongue slip over every ‘s’ in his name.

“You are—”

“Too bold for my own good, too familiar, and going to be the death of you. Yes, I know, thank you,” she said with a bitter grimace. “Please pick a new mantra to chant at me, I’m afraid I’ve grown weary of hearing the same thing over and over.”

Severus glared at her. Hermione allowed her lips to tug into a slight smirk. A dose of his own verbal barbs looked lovely in shades of fury and frustration colored across his cheeks. She watched him carefully as he rose from his chair, eyes never leaving his as he stalked over to where she sat. She refused to flinch when both hands rested on her shoulders. His hand snatched at the fork in her hair so quickly that she couldn’t help herself. The shriek had been not only in surprise but because in his haste he’d tugged a few of her curls free from her head. “Forks are for eating with, Ms. Granger, not pinning up that nest you call hair.”

Hermione surged to her feet and spun around finding herself chest to chest with him. “And I suppose you’d prefer it if I bleached it blonde, chopped it off and stacked it up on my crown under a kilo of gel and product like that silly little nancyboy from the shop?” she snapped.

Severus drew in a breath and she was certain she’d done it. The verbal tirade was coming like a maelstrom. She shivered when his hand slowly swept up the side of her neck, catching a good handful of her hair in his palm. His fingers tangled in her tresses, stroking her head back and for a moment she felt her heart skip a beat. The moment was dashed to smithereens as he tugged her hair hard before pulling his hand back. “I could care less if you suddenly went bald,” he spat. “Then at least I’d stop finding your curls everywhere.” He held her gaze and then added “Including the basin of the tub.”

Hermione gave out a furious groan. He would be the death of her. He was driving her up a wall, and she was convinced he was doing it merely to get a rise out of her. Her patience had waned and initially she had convinced herself that she could play his game and perhaps even best him at it, but it would sooner drive her out of her head than gain her any ground with him. Hermione stood her ground, however, and narrowed her eyes at him. “You are impossible.”

“And you are annoying,” he countered.

“You’re obnoxious!” she shrieked, throwing her hands up into the air. He merely stood there staring at her. Severus crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her as if to signal that she should continue her verbal barrage. “Oh!” she huffed. Hermione stomped across the tiles of the kitchen over to the cutlery drawer and whipped out a second fork. Stabbing it brutally into her hair, she bit her tongue to keep from yelping when she poked herself too hard in the head. He had noticed and his lips had tugged into a smirk but this only infuriated her. She stalked back to the kitchen table, picked up her crossword and pencil and then stormed out of the room.

He had nerve. He had gall. And it was driving her round the twist. She hadn’t gone to her room but rather straight through the sliding glass door and out to the little patio of the backyard. No better a time to start creating with magic than when she was seething with rage. An angry flourish of her wand sent sparks flying in all directions and for a moment she worried that the neighbors would see. But after a moment’s consideration she decided that she didn’t care if the neighbors could see or if he even had neighbors. Several snapped branches and tricky transfigurations later and Hermione had her makeshift hammock strung between the two trees in the far corner of his backyard.

With her crossword puzzle and pencil forgotten on the grass she flopped down into the hammock. But in her haste to transfigure and assemble the thing, she’d forgotten to seal it and the force of her body flopping against it sent the makeshift strings wobbling back into sticks and the whole thing collapsed beneath her. Hermione thumped to the dirt on her arse. She collapsed back into the dirt, balled up her fists and began to thrash her arms and legs like a tot mid-tantrum at the shops when denied a bucket of sweeties. She didn’t give a flying fig for the swing or her poorly executed transfiguration.

When Hermione had all but exhausted herself with her thrashing fit, she sprawled out like a starfish and looked up into the trees. They were not handsome trees or even very large compared to the ones she’d lived among during her year spent in the Forest of Dean, but they provided great coverage from the sun. Their leaves were a bit too convenient to create such a shadow and she scowled, forcing herself up on her elbows. Severus stood a foot back from her, the day’s fading sun casting his long shadow over her. “If you’re done with your infantile behavior, Ms. Granger, come into the kitchen and use your words and not your temper.” He paused only a moment before turning around and sweeping back across the yard.

She was tempted to hex him. His saving grace was that her wand was stowed away in her bedroom and that by the time she’d summoned it he would safely tucked away in the kitchen. For a good while she sat there brooding in the dirt, half tempted to ignore his command and stay there until dark. It hadn’t gotten chilly yet she had slept outside before. A part of her was tempted to apparate to The Potters and spend the evening there, or even stop in and pay Molly a visit. But after a lengthy debate in her head, she conceded that she couldn’t avoid him forever, not while she was living there and tangled in the strange lover and co-worker affair with him. There was nothing that stopped her from making him wait a bit longer, however.

Hermione brushed herself off a while later and returned to the kitchen. He was seated opposite of the chair she’d left unattended, hands on a steaming mug of tea. She eyed him cautiously before coming to take her seat. The remains of her meal had been cleared away and she felt the slightest twinge of guilt for having left a mess. Hermione was not a messy person and always cleaned up after herself, even when she was in the most furious of states. Seating herself in the chair, she held her tongue and waited to see what, if anything, he would say.

“Get it out, Ms. Granger,” he said and turned his hand out to her, gesturing a sort of permission.

She was stunned that he had not waited in silence or proceeded to lecture her on her misconduct. So stunned that she had no idea where to begin. “You drive me crazy,” she started. He didn’t seem in the least perturbed by her comment. “I mean, honestly!” she cried. “Having a row over the shelves in the shower?”

“This is not about the shelves in the shower, Ms. Granger,” he said calmly.

“Bloody hell, Severus, you stormed in here and started fussing about the shelves and they aren’t that bad—”

He raised his hand to silencer her but she hadn’t been looking directly at him so it took her a moment before she halted her ranting. He nodded when she paused and lowered his hand. “I did not storm into anywhere, Ms. Granger. If you recall I was standing in the archway just there and made a statement. You responded flippantly and I retorted. You’re the one that jumped out of your chair and started shouting.”

“After you snatched the fork out of my hair!” she fussed.

“Cutlery pieces are not hair accessories.”

“Well it hurt,” she snipped. “And you were right insulting!”

“It is hardly my fault if you find yourself insulted by my opinion,” he said. Hermione’s nostrils flared but again he held his hand up. “Now are you going to tell me what has you all wound up or are you going to keep shouting about forks and shower shelves and your hair?”

“You! Severus, you are what has me all worked up! I can’t make heads or tails of you! One minute you’re one way the next you’re another and heaven help me when we’re at work together! And if George thinks that I’m going to be performing in front of hundreds of people with like some circus monkey with you as my ringmaster he’s got another thing coming! How on earth can he expect such a thing?” she cried.

There was a long silence. Severus sat staring at her and Hermione could feel her heart racing. “Ah,” he said after another few moments. “Now you’re getting to the root of it,” he said and rose from his seat. Severus poured himself another cup of tea before sitting back down and assessing her. “Why are you so worked up over this presentation business?”

“Why aren’t you worked up over this presentation business?” she cried. “Hundreds of people, Severus! Watching us! Naked and having sex and utilizing products that are meant to be shared intimately between lovers— it’s horrifying!”

Severus sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “Surely you don’t think Mr. Weasley would not offer us some way to conceal our identities? A heavy glamour, a splash of Polyjuice, at the very least a mask? Certainly he would not want to invite the world of trouble that comes with such public displays of lewd conduct into our lives willingly, and I trust he’s already planned accordingly.”

His words stunned her into abject silence. Her mind skidded to a halt. She hadn’t thought of such a thing. Her nerves had been on edge since he’d mentioned it and all she could think of was the hundreds of eyes who would see her face; the witches and wizards that would see her and know who she was, know who he was and watch them have sex. Never once had it crossed her mind that there would be ways to keep people from knowing who they were. The knot that had been weighing heavily in her stomach seemed to dissolve upon hearing these alternatives that Severus had clearly been thinking over or perhaps even aware of all along. She hung her head. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she mumbled.

“Indeed not,” he said and sipped his tea. “What else is troubling you?” he asked after a moment. “Best to get you sorted fully lest you bring the trees down with you next time.”

Hermione glared at him, her cheeks stinging with embarrassment. The cardinal rule of any complicated spell, transfiguration or otherwise was to do it with a clear mind and cooled focus. When attempting her hammock she had had neither. “What are you, my therapist now?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

“Therapist, teacher, sexual plaything…all at your service,” he said with mocking bow of his head.

Hermione scoffed. “Sexual plaything my arse,” she muttered.

“You think not?” he asked. His eyes were hard as he gazed at her.

Hermione’s features twisted slightly and she shook her head. “Don’t act as if you aren’t engaged, Severus.”

She watched his face soften for a moment, the way the lines around his eyes creased, the way his lips eased into something that almost looked natural. “You are quite impossible to deny,” he said and rested his hands around his teacup once more. “Insatiable…and unwilling to take no for an answer…”

Her eyes grew wide, first with indignation then with genuine confusion. “You— but you—”

Severus sighed. “I spend my working hours restraining myself so as not to appear a wanton wayward in the eyes of our employer, by the time you start in with your advances I’ve no energy left to deny you,” he paused. “Do not mistake me, Miss Granger, if I didn’t want it to some degree I would not have it, but you are persistent and insistent and too bold for your own good.” Her lips smacked several times as if she were stuttering to say something only no sound came from her lips. He continued before she could find her words. “Did you ever stop to think that after tangling myself with you all evening in the workshop that the very last thing I want to do when I return to my home is the work I’ve done all evening long? Did you ever stop to think that you pursuing me the way you have, regardless of the fact that there is a mutual attraction, was little more than your own gratification asserting itself while simultaneously objectifying me?”

Again she was dumbstruck by his words. Her eyes grew wider, though she had managed to close her mouth. He’d blindsided her with this confession. But it appeared he was not finished with his outpouring. “I crossed a line, of that I am well aware, but since that line was crossed you have done nothing but pursue me for sex and it is tiresome,” he confessed. “Enjoyable, yes, but Merlin— do you think of nothing else?”

Hermione could take no more of it. But she refused to storm out as she had before. Nodding her head dumbly, she stood slowly and then looked at him. “I think I’ll turn in for the evening,” she said. “Sorry,” she added, brushing quickly by him and all but running down the hall to her room. She did not slam the door, but did lock it tight once inside. With a heavy choking sob she collapsed onto her bed and began to cry into her pillow, refusing to be heard as she fell to pieces in her blankets.

He thought she was pursuing him relentlessly for sex. That she viewed him as a sexual plaything and nothing more. How could he be so thick? She wasn’t sure whether or not to be hurt or angry and the confusion only made her cry harder. Her mind was imploding upon itself as the last few days blurred together and all she could think about was the way he’d fucked her. Hadn’t he told her off for trying to express her feelings? Was this his way of putting up a barrier between them because he couldn’t deal with the fact that she did have feelings for him?

Hermione’s eyes stung as she continued to cry. It made her question not only what he thought of her but what she thought of herself. Her life had been unraveling at the seams since her breakup with Ron, since the end of the war, even; there hadn’t been consistency even when she’d had the steady boy, the steady job, the steady flat. She’d fallen into desperation and despair and taken a position that opened her world to a dark and devious side of her persona that she had not even known existed. She found herself housed with him and desperately craving his touch and his body. Was there more to it? She had always respected him but did that mean she loved him as she thought she did or had she been overcompensating for the fact that their compatibility under the same roof had been doomed from the start?

There were so many questions and each one only made her cry harder. Hermione had sobbed her eyes dry in confusion and frustration until both nostrils were clogged and her temples were throbbing. She didn’t dare lift her head from her pillow, but if she laid there any longer with her thoughts consuming her she was certain she’d draw her wand just to knock herself unconscious. She needed to clear her head. She needed to take a walk. Slipping out into the hallway once she’d put on her trainers, she ducked out the front door and into the evening air. Hermione had never been a runner or even much of an exerciser so she had no idea where to go to get a good walk to clear her head Spinner’s End was terribly attractive, and it was too close to him for her to get her mind off of him.

With a pop she apparated herself to a crowded thoroughfare on Carnaby Street. She needed the hustle and bustle of the London crowd dallying about and dashing through as the shops set to close up for the evening to distract her mind. But after only a few moments of rude tourists and skeevy looks from the snobs near the boutiques, she gave up, ducked down an alley and disapparated. Finding herself back at Spinner’s End, and more frustrated than when she’d set out, she sighed and stalked down the street, headed toward what looked like a park.

As the sun started to set she wished she’d brought a jumper. She was too exhausted to bother with a warming charm. Simple magic came easily enough to her but with her mind asunder she was likely to set her shirt on fire rather than warm the air around her. Hermione meandered along the edge of the park, trying to let her mind drift away with the evening’s breeze. But it was no use, all she could think of was Severus. How living with him and working with him had somehow created a catastrophe that had blown up in her face. She tried to tackle him rationally. He was a man, she was a woman; they shared a dwelling and a job. Why did it have to be more complicated than that?

She sighed, pausing at the edge of a creek, gazing down into her reflection. She had made it complicated by wanting him, by needing him. Always touching him and trying to get him to break his restraint while they worked in George’s workshop. She’d found herself thrust into a most unusual situation with the job itself but had insisted on exacerbating it by moving in with the man. Hermione had never been able to leave well enough alone. But the more she thought about it the more she realized it had been his idea for her to move into Spinner’s End. He had made it sound as if he were merely preventing her from asking, and she had argued all the points he had presented, but in the end it was him that had said she was moving in. She didn’t know whether to be flustered, relieved, or more confounded with that revelation.

Hermione looked away from her reflection. Unlike the one in her bedroom mirror it did not chastise her. The sun was gone and the air was more than sufficiently chilled. Her wound up mind could no more think straight out away from the house than she could inside it. At least inside it she was warm. She had wandered a few good hours and felt just as flustered, though with slightly clearer nostrils, as she had when she’d fell into her bed crying. Resigned to a ruined evening she turned to walk back to the house at Spinner’s End.

Her head was full, no questions answered, but she realized one thing. If he felt he was being objectified, even if that wasn’t at all what was happening, she could at the very least offer him an apology. Maybe an evening out where their bodies wouldn’t be an open temptation on the table. Hermione thought it over and with a newfound plan in her mind she set back towards the house with a purposeful stride. She would ask him to a coffee shop to grab a drink and film at a cinema. They could apparate to one nearby Kings Cross and make a proper night of it. Talk to one another, walk together without the pressures of giving into carnal desires. She wasn’t sure that he would oblige her request, but at the very least it would show she was trying to see him as something other than a sexual object.

Hermione came back to Spinner’s End and dipped into her room, determined not look a mess before going to ask him to join her out of the house for coffee. Her hair had come loose from the fork, most likely from all the thrashing about she’d done on the dirt after she’d fallen through her failed attempt at making a hammock. Plucking the offending cutlery from her hair she fussed with a brush and a few smoothing charms for several minutes before finally relenting and pinning it up with an elastic, and a spell for good measure. Her eyes were still slightly red but not as puffy and swollen as they’d been when she’d had her cry on the bed.

Ever a woman she changed her blouse three times, finally settling on a nice jumper that would stave off the evening chill and looked demure without looking frumpy. Giving herself a smile in the mirror, to which her reflection snorted and rolled its eyes, she stepped into the hallway and marched with confidence over to Severus’ bedroom door. The handle was an easy twist in her hand and she pushed it in. “You know I think maybe we could—” Her words failed her and she stood staring with her mouth agape in the doorframe.

Bound in leather straps, completely naked, and gagged with a garish red ball was the blonde boy from the sex shop. He stood upright, but only just so, with Severus standing beside him wearing only a pair of black trousers. In his hand he held a riding crop. Hermione could not tear her eyes away from what she was seeing. Severus turned his head to look at her and stayed very still for a moment. Her eyes flicked from the boy, bound and gagged, to Severus and back several times.

“I’m in the middle of a lesson, either come in and make yourself useful or kindly close the door,” he snapped. Hermione was so shocked that she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth remained open, her eyes wide, unable to think or speak. Severus strode toward her, narrowed his eyes at her and then pushed the door shut.

Her stomach roiled with knots and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. Her immediate reaction, once she’d regained control of her mind and body and kept her stomach from revolting on her, was to storm back into his room and ask just how he intended to have her make herself useful. But the thought of being in the same room with Severus and the little blonde whelp as he was instructing the child on whatever it was he was instructing was too much for Hermione. She shuddered at the thought, at his words, I’m in the middle of a lesson. The same sort of lessons he’d worked through with her, teaching her how to perform fellatio, and what anal sex was like. She very much doubted the young blonde needed instruction in either of those arenas.

She sulked her way back into her room. She should have gone out, gone to the coffee shop where she had intended to take him and talk. A frothy latte alone at a table in a corner was better than the solitude of her bedroom knowing what was happening just across the hall behind his bedroom door. Hermione shuddered once more and then slipped out of her jumper and skirt. She changed into a long-sleeved nightgown, an old favorite from her childhood days that she’d worked a few spells on to properly fit her adult body. She snapped the elastic trying to take it out of her hair but shrugged it off as she ran her fingers through the mass of curly frizz. Curling herself into her duvet, she snatched up a book from her shelf and settled into bed.

The knocking on her bedroom door alerted her to the fact that it was still dark outside and that she had fallen asleep drooling on her book. When the knocking did not desist she sighed, closed her book and pulled her duvet up over her head. “Go away,” she called to the door. But he knocked again. “Ugh. Go away, Severus, I’m naked.” She huffed. The door to her bedroom opened and he stepped inside, closing it and leaning against it. “That was meant to be a deterrent not an invitation,” she quipped from beneath her duvet.

“You’re a piss poor liar, Ms. Granger,” he said, eyeing the lump of sheets and blankets that was her body. “And I have seen, touched, sucked, and fucked every inch of your nakedness, do you really think it matters to me what state of dress you’re in?”

Hermione heaved a tremendous sigh and poked her head out from under the duvet. “What?”

“Crabby, aren’t we?” he asked and then stepped toward her bed. He sat himself down on the edge of it as he had done several times before.

“Don’t you have a lesson to teach?” she snarled.

“You need a lesson in manners,” he said with a bit of bite to his voice.

“If you’ve come in here to insult me some more, you can turn around and get out— which is actually what I want you to do regardless of what you came in here for.” Hermione pulled the duvet around her tighter so that only a portion of her face was visible. She looked like an angry Jedi.

“I was being serious. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to knock on a door before entering it?” he asked, though his tone had changed slightly.

“And I’m being serious, go back to your little blonde bugger,” she muttered and then drew her face completely into her blankets.

Severus snorted. “Pouting will get you nowhere, Ms. Granger.”

“Hermione!” she shrieked from under the sheets. “My name is Hermione!”

“I know what your bloody name is, witch,” he said tersely. “There is no need to shout.”

She squealed her frustration rather loudly from beneath her sheets. “Would you please just go away?” The room was quiet. But she could still feel his body on her mattress, the depression of his weight signaling that he had not left the room despite his silence. Hermione sighed a tiny and silent sigh of relief when she felt him stand from the bed. But it was short lived as the duvet was pulled up off of her and deposited onto the floor. “Severus, really!” she huffed.

“I was right about you lying,” he said with a shrug and moved to once more sit on the bed, bringing his body closer to her this time.

Hermione tugged on her hair. “You’re like bloody Jekyll and Hyde!” she cried. “What in Merlin’s beard do you want from me?” Severus held his tongue. She couldn’t make heads or tails out of him. But the only thing she wanted in that moment was for him to go away. Or at the very least get out of her bedroom and leave her to the night and her book and her thoughts. “What is it going to take to get you to get out of my room?” she glared at him. “Do you need me to come onto you?” she asked, pulling herself upright until their faces were an inch apart. “Objectify you some more so that you’ll go?”

She leaned her head toward him and pressed her chest forward though she wasn’t sitting close enough to brush her breasts against his chest. His hand under her chin caused her to shiver slightly and she stilled her gesture. “You had come in with the intent of saying something or doing something,” he said and gazed hard into her eyes.

Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You were teaching,” her voice drew bitter at the end of her reply.

“And what of it?” he said looking just the slightest bit off put.

“Do you have to do it here?” she asked, her voice filling with exasperation.

Severus quirked both of his eyebrows high on his forehead. “And just where would you propose I do it other than my own home?” When she did not reply he tilted her chin up higher. “Did you not receive your lessons here?”

Hermione faltered. “I—”

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Severus leaned his face close to hers.

She closed her eyes drawing in a shaky breath. “You meant what you said? That you don’t cuddle?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked.

“You were in my bed last night.”

“You asked me to lie down with you, insisted, actually.” He replied.

“You could have said no,” she opened her eyes, uncertain as to the path the conversation was heading down.

“I could have,” he mused and then shook his head. “But you would have put up a fight and I would have ended up struggling, which would have worn me down, and I would have given in after a while of being worn down.” He paused and then eased his fingers out from under her chin. “It was easier just to give in to you straight away.”

Hermione leaned back. “Please go away now,” she muttered.

“I’m only being honest with you,” he paused and then placed his hand on her knee. “Hermione.”

She stiffened. Twice he had used her name and twice it had disarmed her completely. She was helpless in that moment, unable to think beyond the way her name rolled like liquid velvet off his tongue. She could no more brush his hand from her knee than she could force him out of her bedroom. For a moment the rest of the evening dissolved; there was no argument, no tantrum, and certainly no Nigel. For a moment she had serenity in his delicate almost non-existent touch and his proximity. But it was only a moment and like his fleeting emotions, it was gone before she could actualize it. “I just— you— Severus, please…” she shook her head. “Just go, won’t you?” she asked.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, though he had not lifted his hand from her knee.

“Yes. No! Ugh! I don’t know!” she cried and then leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing up all of her sheets and blankets. “I just— I don’t know, Severus.” She said. “I’m going to curl up under these blankets and try to forget this whole day even happened,” she confessed. “And you can either curl up with me, which you won’t do because you don’t cuddle. Or you can go. I can’t fathom myself being touched like that by you after I saw you with— that— ugh, what I saw…” she forced the words out of her mouth. “But you’re driving me mad at present and I really think I just wish to sleep!”

Hermione turned onto her side and held the blankets tight to her chest, closing her eyes. “Nox!” she cried, forgetting that the house was wired with electric. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tight as if that would somehow remove the light from the room. When he stood from the bed it was both disappointing and relieving. She could feel the hint of tears forming in the back of her eyes but also a great sigh welling up in her chest. The blankets were pulled from her arms and draped over her, hiding her away beneath them. She sighed a slow and heavy sigh and the light in her room was switched off. But then his hand pressed against her shoulder and for a moment she felt the weight of him bracing on her. Severus climbed over her and eased down behind her on the mattress.

The shift of the blankets was strange as she felt him slip beneath them, his body moving closer to hers without touching her. They laid there silently, close but not touching for several moments. She blinked back her tears and after a moment wriggled her body back until her back was pressed against his chest. He draped his arm over her waist and let his hand rest on her ribs just under her breasts. It should have been revolting, being spooned back against his body. Although he’d been wearing his trousers when she’d barged into his lesson, she was convinced that he’d been intimate with the blonde. But she couldn’t help herself. Despite the fact that he was the cause of her madness, he also seemed to be her only source of umbrage and refuge. The cure was somehow worse than the sickness and she was caught in a maddening circle that she could not comprehend.

His breathing was shallow, steady and even, but she knew he was not asleep. Hermione could not bring herself to drift off though she’d closed her eyes a good dozen times or more, trying to convince herself that she could nod off with his arm draped casually over her, his chest rising and falling against her back. “You don’t cuddle,” she whispered after a time.

“I do not,” his voice was equally soft in response.

“What the hell do you call this?” Hermione did not move not even to twist her head back over her shoulder.

“Attempting to quell the anxieties and neurosis of my housemate,” he said.

Hermione was quiet. The rhythm of his chest moving slowly up and down against her back was hypnotic. Even if he was a right git and had buggered the blonde boy after he’d closed her out of his bedroom. There was something disarming about his presence that she couldn’t shake, and so she didn’t. “Is that all I am to you? A housemate?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. It would not do to burst out into a fit of hysterics, even if the question did make her eyelids tremble with the weight of restrained tears.

“What else would you have yourself be?” he asked. Again she held her tongue. As she chewed over the answers in her mind, none immediately came to the surface. She felt his hand shift ever so slightly down her ribs, resting his palm flat on her stomach. “It’s a tall and rather selfish order to expect me to see you as something that you yourself cannot name.” His fingers began to sweep slow circular motions around her stomach, drifting up and down the soft cotton of her nightgown. She flinched as he grazed a ticklish spot.

“Stop that,” she swatted at his hand. She should have pulled away from him, turned into his arms and pushed him. She was torn. A part of her longed to lay there with his arm draped over her, even if he had nearly tickled her, and pretend as if there had been no rows, no Nigel, none of the unpleasant things that had surfaced in the last 48 hours. But another part of her wanted to push him from the bed while calling him every name in the book until he was so thoroughly chastised that he apologized. She knew the later was unlikely to occur, even if she did manage to verbally chase him from her room. She resigned her fate to feeling comforted, however minutely, by his embrace.

Severus had stilled his hand at first when she’d swatted him but his fingers were once again moving in slow sweeping circles over the fabric of her nightgown. When his fingertips grazed the sensitive ticklish spot that they had before, he chuckled when she squirmed in his arms. “That isn’t funny,” she huffed and made to push his arm off of her but he held his hand firmly against her stomach, keeping his arm in place and effectively pinning her in their spooned embrace. Hermione growled and with a great deal of effort enlisted against his heavy arm, flipped herself onto her other side and faced him in the darkness. “Do you delight in tormenting me?” she snapped.

“Clearly,” he said. She couldn’t see the features of his face but knew that he was smirking. She slapped her hand against his chest and squeaked as he curled his fingers tightly around hers. “None of that,” he said. “You can huff and puff all you wish, but you will not strike.”

Hermione seethed. He was frustrating. She had never been prone to violence, but he had upended her sanity. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, though it did nothing for the darkness, and when she opened them she searched for traces of his face. His warm breath, slow and gentle, caressed her cheek and she laid perfectly still just feeling the little puffs against her skin. Heaving a great sigh she wriggled her fingers free of his grasp and placed her palm flat on the fabric of his shirt, pressing her hand against his chest. “I want—”

“What you want is irrational,” he said, not allowing her to finish.

“Severus, how can you say that? You don’t know what I want!” she snapped.

“You don’t even know what you want, Ms. Granger,” he said. “You think you want me, you think you want sex, you think all of these things without knowing anything about them,” he paused for a moment, fingers threading into her hair and she stiffened at his touch. “You’ve found yourself sexually awakened at an early age with little to compare it to and you find yourself enticed by these head games that you insist we play because it fulfills some latent saphiosexual urge that underscores your thinking, and you have all the restraint and consideration of a randy fifth year going boy-crazy—”

Hermione cupped her full hand against his mouth, effectively silencing him. She let her hand rest there for several moments. She counted his breaths against her palm, marking them one at a time until he’d breathed more than twenty before she pulled her hand back. “I am not boy crazy,” she said finally.

“How many men have you slept with?” he asked.

She gasped at the question, offended and embarrassed, but quickly countered. “How many men have you slept with?”

For a moment she believed that her quick retaliation had earned her an advantage as there was silence between them. But his answer shocked her further still. “Several dozen, I have never found keeping an exact count to be useful.” Hermione shuddered, unable to help herself. “Do you see?” he whispered in the darkness. “Not so attractive when put into perspective, is it?” he asked, fingers still threaded in her hair. “And I assure you that I do not know how many women either, though it is of a lower number.” She could feel her heart racing but his words did not abate. “You know nothing of my past save for the misinterpreted representations you garnered during your days at Hogwarts leading up to the war, and what little bit of composite detail I have shared with you since we started Mr. Weasley’s job together, but so quick and eager are you to ascribe feelings to this situation. Do you see why I think it irrational?”

“I know what I feel when I’m with you,” she insisted.

“Sexually, of course,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “But even that would change if you had any standard of comparison.” There was a pause and Hermione listened with rapt attention as he theorized over her sexual life. “Outside of that ginger fraternal of our current employer, to which I have been led to understand there was little outside of basic intercourse, I would wager you’ve had one or two other men if that at all, not including the traumatic experience which you’ve expunged from your mind regarding the muggles who gave you this…” his hand slipped down over her hip and clutched for a moment at her backside just over where her little rose tattoo existed.

She felt herself inexplicably repulsed and simultaneously drawn to him in that moment. “I don’t remember—”

“You choose not to remember, it is common in those instances,” he said. “Suppressed or repressed or discarded completely, it is there inside your mind.”

Hermione nodded her head slowly and then after a moment she jerked back from him. “You— you look inside my mind?” she asked incredulously. Her cheeks filled with anger and she was very grateful that she could not see his features in the darkness lest she take a swing at his face. “How dare you!” she cried.

“If you learned nothing from your days at Hogwarts during those dark and difficult times you should at the very least have learned to constantly be on your guard,” he muttered, though he not moved his hand from her hair or her backside.

“You are supposed to be someone I trust!” she cried and wriggled back completely from him, dislodging both of his hands from her body.

“Why?” he asked. “Because we’ve fucked? Because you live here? What do you really know about me, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione could take it no more. She forced herself out of the bed and tore through the room and out into the hallway. She stood there huffing her breaths in and out through her nose, the force straining at her nostrils. Then she growled, balled her fists up at her side and marched back into her bedroom. “This is my bedroom. Get out!” she cried. Her hand slammed hard on the wall and she flicked the light switch up.

Severus was sitting up on her bed, head twisted back over his shoulder to stare at her. “Angry now, are you?” he asked rather casually. “Because you made assumptions? Because you let your guard down having no good reason to do so?”

She had lost a handle on her temper the night she’d agreed to move in with him. And the little game he’d played with her had left her so beside herself that she didn’t recognize the woman who was storming across the short distance from the bedroom door to her bed. Hermione grabbed him by both shoulders and struggled to pull him to his feet, to no avail. Both of his hands grabbed her hips and held her firmly in place. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” she cried, jumping and shifting trying to break free of his hold on her.

“You need to calm yourself, Ms. Granger,” he said sternly.

“No. I will not calm myself. You are not my professor, you are not my— my— anything! Except the torturous man who is ridding me of my sanity one shag at a time! You think I objectify you and am irrationally obsessed with you but you creep into my bed and spoon me— and for what? To revile and ridicule me?” she shrieked. “You’re— you’re—”

“Stop. Shouting.” He commanded, his tone most severe. Hermione closed her eyes and drew a terribly shaky breath. When she opened her eyes to meet his gaze he was boring holes into her eyes. His grip on her hips had not relinquished and she felt a plethora of things that seemed out of place. Excitement, fear, frustration, and the slightest hint of being trapped were all flooding through her as she stood rooted to the bedroom floor glaring at Severus Snape. “I want you to go,” he said. “Stay somewhere else for the night.” He said and when her eyes grew wide with fear he shook his head. “I’m not throwing you out. But you will find an alternative for tonight.” Hermione searched his eyes, desperately trying to read them. “Find a man,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders. “Find a woman, I don’t really care. But go and when you’ve gone and done so…come back tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it.”

Hermione could not protest as she was all but lifted off her feet, carried out into the main room of the house and nudged toward the front door. “Go, Ms. Granger,” he said and pushed her lightly on the back of her shoulder blades. Dumbfounded, she stumbled forward and out the front door as it was opened in front of her. She turned back to him, wide-eyed and disbelieving but he only nodded before closing the door in her face.


	16. Contracting Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing with this. Things are going to get bumpy, so strap in!

The heat was sweltering. Compounded by the stickiness of the air’s humidity Hermione was immediately beginning to regret her decision. But she had had little choice. When she’d found herself standing out in front of the house at Spinner’s End with a closed door before her she had panicked. There had been a fleeting moment where she had considered pounding on the door with the intent to cause a fuss until he let her back in. Then she thought of hopping the fence into the backyard and letting herself in through the sliding glass door with the intent of slipping unnoticed into her room. But the more she thought about such things, the angrier she became. And the angrier she became the more determined she was to do exactly as he had instructed her to and spoil herself silly on another man.

She had ignored his comment about finding a woman. There had never been another woman who had so much as turned Hermione’s head, let alone piqued her interests in a sexual fashion. She had never found herself even remotely drawn to individuals of the same gender. The same could not be said for Severus. But she tried not to dwell on it. She tried very much to think about the things he had said to her and whether he was saying them because they were true or because he was trying to push her away. Had she gotten under his skin and was making him feel things? Or was he truly a devious swot who was simply using her as a means to an ends and he wanted her to be fully aware? Was she having feelings for him? Or merely imprinting upon him because he’d awakened her sexually? All of those thoughts swirled around in her head as she stood in a narrow foyer of a damp and sticky house, gazing up into the gloom of the place with nervous uncertainty.

It had only taken an owl to find the place, and a moment to get her bearings and apparate there, though she’d wished for all the world that her letter had gone unanswered. She hadn’t fathomed that he would actually respond and so promptly at that. Yet there she stood, heat closing in on her skin threatening to permanently meld her clothing with her flesh. A frightening looking man with a bushy black beard and matching eyebrows had opened the door. His eyes were red and bleary, his hair was long and stringy. He’d been half naked and the pungent odor of patchouli mixed with sweat wafted off of him in repugnant waves. Hermione should have turned away, made up some excuse to say it had been the wrong house, and disapparated on the spot.

But when she’d stated who she was there to see, the man— who called himself Axel— disappeared up the stairs with news of her arrival. She was certain the frightening fellow had been a muggle, everything about the house seemed to smack of non-magical essence, which did not put her at ease in the least. It had not been what she had been expecting when her response owl returned with a rashly scribbled Yes! Here is the address! 15-107 Rue El Besili, Tunis. She hadn’t really put thought into the fact that he would remember his offer, let alone leap at the chance to make good on it.

“Hermione?” the voice called to her from the top of the stairs. She glanced upward. Hidden behind a furry beard that seemed to consume his face and grow straight back into his hair as if they were all one red tangle, was the warm smile and glimmering blue eyes of Charlie Weasley. “Is that you? Blimey,” he said putting his hands on the banister as he took the stairs two at a time until he was down on the floor of the foyer. “You’re really here,” he said with a beaming grin.

She blushed, feeling uneasy. Much like Axel, Charlie only wore a pair of trousers that had been cutoff at the knee, though she supposed with the heat and humidity she could hardly blame them. “Erm, yes, I am.” She smiled. Though she could no more rationalize in her mind what exactly she was doing there than she could believe that she had actually gone through with going. “Hello,” she said, again feeling her cheeks fill with blush from sounding quite so stupid.

“Well, hello!” he said. Without warning he wrapped her into one of his patented bear hugs. Some things never changed. Crushed in his embrace, she patted her arms around his back and tried not to inhale. He smelled much like Axel had, thick with sweat and patchouli and as if a good bath would be in order. She couldn’t imagine what Molly would have to say if she saw her son in his current state. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said pulling back from embracing her, looking her up and down. “Gotten thinner, I think, not that you were ever hefty,” he shrugged. “Are you eating enough these days?”

Hermione nodded her head. She pursed her lips to apologize, ready to tell him it had been a mistake and that she’d changed her mind when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Come on up, I’ll get you settled in so we can get you what you need,” he grinned and then guided her up the stairs. Lost in a daze she found her feet moving with his guidance up the stairs and around the landing. There were beaded curtains everywhere, including over the doorway that he nudged her through. “’S not much, but it’s quiet,” he said. “Axel’s done for the evening,” he laughed. She watched as Charlie fooled with a plug draping down over the doorframe. Little twinkling lights blinked into existence across the room giving it a purplish glow.

“Are you two the only ones that live here?” she asked, her brow knitting in concern.

“Nah, Axel doesn’t live here,” he said with a laugh. “He visits with Vedrana mostly, but she’s working tonight and he stopped by for a breath of air before she gets home, but that’ll be hours from now. There’s another bloke named Novix that lives here and he brings some mates round from time to time but he’s not in tonight either.” Charlie nodded to the plush rug covered in two squishy pillows big enough to be chairs. “Have a seat,” he gestured. “Can I get you anything? A toke? A hookah? Some wine?”

Hermione felt her stomach tighten. “Erm— no, thank you,” she said and moved to settle down into the pillow chair. It was lumpy but not entirely unpleasant. She had difficulty wrapping her head around a place where two blokes and a lady lived together in harmony with people coming and going as Charlie had just described. But judging from the looks of Axel and the smell that seemed to permeate through the house, she imagined they were not typical people, and were probably more laid back in their lifestyle than Hermione had ever been about anything.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a smile and then flopped down onto the pillow beside her. “You look good. I mean, you always looked good, but you look gorgeous,” he said.

“Thanks,” she shrugged her shoulders and tried not to blush. The room smelled strongly of smoke and she bit her lower lip. The moment she did she stopped half expecting Charlie to reach out and pluck it from between her teeth. A shiver crawled up her spine when she realized she’d been anticipating the gesture because Severus had done it so often.

“So…what made you want to see me?” he asked.

Hermione sighed. She had been afraid he was going to ask her that question. When she’d first split from Ron, every member of the Weasley clan had wanted to do their part to help. Percy had offered to give Ron a talking to and Ginny had offered to give him a good hexing. Molly and Arthur had both offered up the Burrow and Molly had insisted on cooking food for Hermione for nearly the first month. It had been the fullest her icebox had ever been. George had sent her silly little novelty cards for the first few days to cheer her up, and Bill had sent along an invitation to come to Shell Cottage with his wife and kids for a brief getaway, though she suspected he was using the invitation as a convenient excuse to get a free babysitter. Charlie, however, had been different. Charlie had taken her quietly aside one of the nights she’d stayed at The Burrow, as he’d been in residence at the time, and had told her that if she ever needed a night of unattached sex just to clear her head to let him know. She’d slapped his face that night but apologized the next morning when she’d realized he hadn’t been coming onto her so much as he had been offering her a rebound of sorts.

But she’d never made good on his offer. She hadn’t even thought about it until Severus had thrown her out of Spinner’s End for the night. She still didn’t understand what that was meant to accomplish other than putting physical distance between them, but she’d been shoved out with specific instructions. It was difficult to deny that she was angry enough to be foolish and act on them, which was exactly how she had ended up at a sketchy house in Tunis. She had never been one to ignore an instructional opportunity and she had convinced herself that Severus was trying to teach her something by casting her out. Though what it was he was trying to teach her, she hadn’t quite decided.

Hermione raked her eyes over his figure, slowly appraising the wizard that was stretched out before her. While Charlie had told her that she hadn’t changed, he certainly had. If it hadn’t been for the twinkling blue eyes, she wouldn’t have recognized him. His full beard was something of a facial jungle, crawling down his chin and back over his ears. His hair was long and wild down his back, longer than even Bill had ever dared to grow his hair. His figure, though still much like Ron’s in the sense that he was shorter and stouter than most of the Weasley men, was incredibly muscular. She had never seen him without a shirt on before and couldn’t help as she stared at his arms, noting the way they bulged with muscle. His skin bore marks, some faded some fresh, most of which looked like burns and she imagined they were from his days spent working with dragons.

“I mean— you don’t have to tell me if you’d just rather get to—”

“No, no! I mean…” she sighed. “It’s alright, I’m sorry. I was just thinking,” she said with a forced smile. “I’m glad that you’re still— that the offer is still— oh…goodness,” she muttered, blushing furiously.

Charlie chuckled. “You do drink, don’t you? I’m getting you wine,” he said and hopped up onto his feet.

“No, really, Charlie, it’s fine— I don’t want to be blasted for this,” she said and crossed her arms around her chest.

He laughed. “One glass isn’t going to get you blasted, Hermione. Not even with as strong as their wine is here,” he said. She watched his frame disappear through the beaded curtains and she heard his footfalls bouncing down the stairs. She had a moment to consider diving out the window and apparating back to Spinners End, or really anywhere that wasn’t the sauna of a cesspit he was calling his home. But before she could gather up her courage to do so, he’d returned with a glass of dark purplish liquid. “It’s not too sweet, mind you, but it should help calm you down,” he said and handed it to her.

Hermione sniffed the glass and wrinkled her nose. It smelled as if the grapes had gone rotten. She took a sip and choked it back, thankful that she hadn’t taken a hefty swallow. It was disgusting. Setting the glass beside her she tried her best to look at ease so that he would not insist on getting her something stronger. “Do you like it here?” she asked.

“It’s quiet,” he said, easing back down into the pillow. “Gives me a chance to take in the unexamined life. Off the beaten path, you know, that rubbish.”

“Right.”

“And what about you? You didn’t say much in your note.” He rolled a bit of paper between his fingers and began puffing away on some sort of homemade cigarette which smelled rank.

“Yeah…” she shook her head. “Not much to tell, I’m afraid. I just…” she rolled her hand in a gesture to indicate him. “I needed… well I need…and if you’re sure—”

Charlie grinned. “You’ve come along at the perfect time, Hermione.” He confessed and then leaned up on his knees. After a moment he stood. “Come on, there’s a bed through here,” he said and took her hand. Hermione was up on her feet and dipping through a set of beaded curtains at the back of the room in which they sat. The back room was smaller and smelled musty but there was very clearly a bed in its corner. It was simple and reminded her of Severus’ bed. “There you go,” he said and put both hands on her shoulders. “You want a rub down first? Or maybe some more wine?”

“No,” she whispered and closed her eyes. Could she really go through with it? She owed Severus nothing. He’d made it quite clear that she was nothing more than a housemate by harshly pointing out the fact that she did not know what she wished them to be. It was still quite unsettling. She felt Charlie’s hands on her shoulders, slowly rubbing their way up and down her back. She winced but bit her lip to keep her protestations quiet. Her body still ached from the sinful attack that Severus had laid to her neck and back with his lips that morning in the shower. “Charlie, I—”

He eased his hands up off her back and slowly spun her around. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, ‘Mione,” he said and nuzzled his nose against the top of her head. “I’m happy to do whatever…maybe you just want a good lick?” he offered. Her face colored furiously and he chuckled. “Or whatever,” he said with a shrug and nudged her toward the bed. “Have a sit maybe? Let me rub your feet?”

Hermione exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She slowly lowered herself onto the bed and listened as he sank down onto his knees, pulling one foot up into his hands. Charlie’s hands were large. They reminded her of Severus’ hands, only rougher. While Severus had hands that had worked with caustic potion ingredients for longer than she had been alive, his fingers were spindly and slender. Charlie’s fingers felt thick, a bit like sausages, and were scarred from his years working with dragons in Romania. She kept her eyes closed and in doing so could almost imagine that it was Severus knelt before her rubbing the sole of her foot. That image made her stomach turn. Hadn’t he sent her away so that she would experience someone other than him? Her eyes flew open and she gazed at Charlie, who was intently rubbing her foot and staring at her leg, the way it poked out from beneath the lace trim of her nightgown.

She knew she had looked a fright when she’d arrived at the house door and the way Axel had looked her over had confirmed her suspicions that she must have been crazy. But when Severus had put her out of the house he’d not given her a moment to change. She hadn’t even been able to gather her wand. Looking back, she felt foolish for traveling such a distance without it and realized with dawning trepidation that it was perhaps the dumbest thing she’d ever done. But her focus was pulled out of her thoughts as Charlie’s hands began to work around her ankle, moving slowly but steadily up to her calf. All in all the massage was not entirely unpleasant but it was nothing like the way Severus had massaged her the night he had prepared her for her first lesson in fellatio.

“There you go…” Charlie whispered. His voice was so different from Severus’ rich baritone that always seemed to burble with mysterious intention. She closed her eyes once more, trying not to notice the way Charlie’s hands crept higher up her leg, massaging her just beneath her knee. It did feel nice, but she wasn’t sure that meant she desired him, at least not the way she desired Severus. But wasn’t that her problem? Not really knowing what she wanted? Hermione leaned back on her elbows and shifted her legs just a bit causing Charlie to still his motions completely. She gasped when she felt the coarse hairs of his bushy beard brush against the inside of her calf. “You alright?” he asked.

“Fine, Charlie…I’m fine,” she said and then lowered her back onto the bed. She felt his kiss; his warm wet lips pressed against her skin just above her knee against her inner thigh. His lips were soft but a different kind of soft as they caressed her flesh, trailing kisses slowly up her inner thigh. His rough hand pushed her nightgown up, letting it gather up near her belly and she felt herself trembling. Was she really so easily turned on by the simplest of intimate touches? Or was she thinking about Severus and her body was responding in kind. This is not Severus, he threw you out of the house. That mantra did nothing to quell her anxiety as she felt Charlie’s kisses rise higher still until his full soft lips pressing against the thin cotton fabric of her knickers just against her sex.

Hermione whimpered as his tongue traced the length of her slit through her knickers. When had she parted her legs to let him so easily reach her? She could feel her body warming to his touches as his hand pushed her nightgown up further still, exposing her breasts to the sticky air of his room. Her nipples were stiff, her chest rising and falling rapidly and she felt strangely betrayed by her body’s arousal. Perhaps Severus had been right and she was simply boy-crazy wanting whatever man would give her pleasure. She would not open her eyes as she felt his fingers easing up to the elastic of her knickers, slowly pulling them down around her thighs, over her knees, and then off her feet. “You’re bare…” he said, his voice husky.

It was not Severus’ voice. Hermione tossed her head to the side, opening her eyes to stare at the little window that led out of his room. She gasped, the feeling of his slick tongue against her folds sending a tremble through her legs. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, even though she found her hips arching toward his mouth as he pressed kisses against her entrance, the coarse wires of his beard scratching at her thighs. The window reflected the darkness of the night, no stars, no street lights, only blackness, which reminded her of Severus. Her body jerked as she felt him slide a finger and then a second into her core, the squelching sound of his pumping motion filling the tiny room. Her body wanted sex and didn’t seem to care who provided it. She wanted to be revolted, she wanted to be disgusted, but all she felt was empty.

She didn’t feel the need to moan or the desperation to cry out as she had done when Severus had manhandled her that morning. And although Charlie was quite thorough with his application of oral sex, as she’d nearly climaxed, she hadn’t felt compelled to pant his name or obscenities. When he drew his body over her she closed her eyes and raked her nails down his back. Their kiss was deep, his beard rough against her face. She’d kept her nightgown on, it had only been pulled up above her breasts and this hid the morning’s bruises from his sight. When he pushed himself into her, she closed her eyes, trying to just feel the sensation rather than let her mind wander away. He did not feel like Severus.

Charlie was not lacking for length, though a bit on the slender side, and seemed to have exceptional control over the way he fucked. His hips were hard at times, banging against her, but soft too, sliding into her with practiced ease. It was pleasant, but not the unholy sinful phenomena that she had experienced with Severus. His fingers had pressed between them and manipulated her clit, causing her to whimper until she felt herself trembling, her walls clenching down on him. Hermione felt a small orgasm shoot through her, the simple rush of unattached pleasure doing little to thrill her despite the warming sensation that accompanied it.

When he eased his body back from her she was polite and smiled, surprised that he kissed her, and then slipped behind her in the bed. “I know…I know it’s a small bed…” he panted, a bit out of breath from the never-ending bout of sex he’d just completed. “But if you…if you like…you can…you can stay the night…” he kissed the back of her neck.

“Sure,” she said, though she wished to leave. Hermione laid there with Charlie pressed against her back, feeling empty and slightly soiled. Within moments he was snoring and his arm was draped haphazardly over her body. “Fuck,” she muttered and found herself pinching the bridge of her nose. She had not wanted to stay and what had possessed her to do so was beyond her comprehension, so she settled for staring at the wall and listening to Charlie snore. It had been sex, mindless and meaningless sex that had filled her physically. It had even brought her to an orgasm, albeit small, and allowed her body that release. But it had felt hollow. She wondered if when Severus slept with her it too felt hollow or if he felt things for her and felt empty with others. She wondered if he even felt at all.

Hermione couldn’t recall when exactly she’d drifted off, but when a bright orange light crept under her eyelids she bolted up in the bed and for a moment forgot herself completely. The surroundings were foreign and she panicked, reaching for her wand which wasn’t there. But after a moment of searching frantically around the room the night’s previous activities came into her mind. Severus throwing her out, her apparating to Tunis, and the rather bland and hollow sex with Charlie Weasley. Certain that her sudden thrashing had woken him she all but flipped over herself only to find an empty mattress and a hastily scribbled note on the pillow.

‘Mione— Hope that was what you needed. Left out for the markets. Be back around noon if you need a second go. ~C

Hermione scanned the room for a time piece and then stumbled up to her feet and back into the room with the pillows. It was half 11. With an urgency she righted her nightgown, wishing for all the world that she was more proficient in wandless magic, and dashed from the house. As soon as she was on the street she disapparated, not giving a flying fart in space who saw her vanish. When she landed just in front of the house at Spinner’s End, she dashed to the front door and tried the handle, surprised that it was open. A heavy knot ruptured in her stomach and she felt as if she might be sick.

Caution padded her steps as she made her way down the corridor and into her bedroom. She needed a shower. Ducking into the bathroom she was somewhat relieved that there was no sign of Severus anywhere in the house. If he was in his bedroom, the door was closed and he was either sleeping or dead. She wasn’t so sure that the latter of those two options was a bad thing. Once inside the bathroom, with her wand firmly in her hand, she peeled the nightgown from her body and set the garment on fire. A long hot shower later, wherein she could not seem to do enough scrubbing of her hair and body to alleviate the reminiscent scent of the previous night’s encounter, Hermione was dressed and standing out in the street of Spinner’s End.

She hadn’t wanted to be idling in the house if he returned home or emerged from his bedroom. Though she’d gone and done as he’d suggested she wasn’t entirely sure that it had been the best thing to do. And she certainly was not prepared to talk about it. She was no more certain about what she wanted, other than to never set foot in that dreadful house in Tunis again, and was certainly no better off for the experience. Or perhaps she was because it had showed her that she didn’t want another man, at least not Charlie Weasley, though her body had seemed to disagree. It ate away at her mind, particularly when she took to comparing her own bodily responses to her encounter with Charlie to that of his bodily responses with her. Was his body simply responding because, like her, his mind and body were of two separate convictions, where his mind continued to deny her but his body refused to deny her? Hadn’t she had the same experience with Charlie? It made her head hurt.

When she found herself outside the Potter’s door, she was hesitant before knocking, pleased that Ginny was the one who had answered. “Where’s Harry?” she asked.

“Out with the kids and Teddy, I think, is everything alright?” she asked, ushering Hermione into the kitchen.

“Good,” she said and took the seat that was offered to her. “I need to talk to you.”

Ginny frowned. “Have you had a row with your beaux?” she asked.

Hermione’s eyes flew wide open and she gazed at Ginny in shock. “What?”

“Sorry,” she shrugged her shoulders. “We just figured since you’d stopped coming round and mum said you’d stopped crashing at The Burrow that you must have found a bloke,” she said with a shrug. “Otherwise you would have invited us round for tea at your new place…”

“Oh, Ginny!” she crossed her arms over her chest, though she could hardly be mad.

“What?” she brought the kettle to the table. That was one thing that Hermione always appreciated about Ginny Potter’s house, there was always a steaming kettle ready to wash away the world’s troubles in tea. The silence prompted Ginny into an impromptu confession. “When you all but vanished from society Harry put the trace on you— don’t give me that look— he just wanted to track your whereabouts and make sure you were alright…” Ginny poured Hermione a cup of tea.

“I could have him sacked for that, you know.” Hermione brooded into her tea. “Why on earth would he—”

“Oh, honestly, Hermione. He was only concerned. First you split with Ron, then you left the Ministry, and then your flat…he was worried you were going to go off and…” Ginny hesitated. “Well, and you can’t tell him I told you this— but he was really worried you were going to hurt yourself.”

Hermione frowned into her teacup. “He’s been tracing me ever since?”

“Oh, no!” she said with a flush of relief. “Only for a while, making sure you were alright. When mum floo’d a week or so back and said you’d found a place, he took the trace right off.”

“I see,” she said and then sighed. “Oh, Gin, I’m sorry I shouldn’t be cross. He meant well.”

Ginny smiled. “Biscuits? I’ve got some scones from the shop if you’d like, then you can tell me about this row you’ve had with your beaux.”

Hermione begrudgingly accepted a tray of biscuits, though her preference with tea had always been savories. Little sausage roles and mini meat pies or finger sandwiches trumped tarts, biscuits, and scones any day of the week in her opinion. But she was famished and tucked into the tin of shortbread fingers with gusto. Ginny, who seemed to prefer the bourbon creams, sipped quietly on her tea waiting for Hermione to speak.

“He’s not my beaux, let’s put that out there first,” she said. Hermione could not imagine calling Severus anything of the sort, much less telling him that she’d been referring to him as such. She tried to wrap her head around it, he was certainly not boyfriend material and that wasn’t what she wanted anyhow. Or was it? She hadn’t been pleased with Ron when they’d been together, but she knew that had very little to do with what was currently happening between her and Severus. “He’s my housemate.”

“Oh dear, you’ve had a falling out then?” Ginny asked. She dunked a bourbon cream into her tea.

“Not exactly…” she could feel the blush creeping into her cheeks. She could feel something rising in the back of her throat. And then it just came out. A tumultuous stream of words flowing inexplicably and without pause explaining far more than she had intended to. “We work together— George actually hired us on, and I know you know about the position because you turned up in response to the ad— but he hired me and this other wizard on, and after a few nights work we realized we were both in similar financial situations— although he had a house— and so we ended up living together, which was a problem because there were these moments where we’d encounter one another in his home and there was this tension and then we were sleeping together outside of the job and last night he put me out because he thinks I objectify him and only want him for sex but that isn’t the case or at least I thought it wasn’t only now I’m not sure because he might be bisexual and has this ridiculous little boy that comes round the house, which he only says is for lessons— because he’s a sex instructor outside of being a sex product tester— and he seems to want me at least for sex because he swears he doesn’t cuddle but last night he was in my bed, until he put me out of it, telling me to go and have sex with someone else and I ended up going to Tunis and sleeping with Charlie and now I don’t know what to do!” Hermione gasped.

Ginny stared blankly at Hermione for several minutes. “I’m going to need to put another kettle on,” she said and rose slowly from her seat. Once the kettle was back on the stove and Ginny was seated again, she nodded at Hermione. “Alright, I think I followed that train-wreck stream of conscious, except for the bit about going to Tunis and sleeping with Charlie, because that didn’t make any sense whatever, but I’m going to ignore it for the moment.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Shh!” Ginny shushed. “Just, give me a second.” She swallowed from her tea. “Now you and this bloke like each other?”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

Ginny laughed. “That’s stupid, of course you know. Either you like him and he likes you, or you like him and he doesn’t like you, or you don’t like him and he does like you, or you both don’t like each other. It’s really simple.”

Hermione frowned. When Ginny spelled it out it did seem deceptively simple. But there was never anything simple about Severus Snape. Not their living situation, not their working situation, not the rows they’d had, or the boy Nigel, there was nothing uncomplicated about the whole mess. She sighed. “I think I like him,” she started.

“No, either you like him or you don’t. There’s no bloody thinking involved, Hermione. Yes or no?”

“But I don’t—”

“Yes. Or no?” Ginny stared at her.

Hermione bowed her head. “Yes. Alright, yes. I like him.”

“And you don’t know how he feels about you? He must like you somewhat if you’ve slept with him outside of work.”

“I would think so…only he makes it complicated when he tries to explain that bit,” she confessed.

“Of course he does, he’s a man. And if he’s got a bloke on the side—”

“He does not have a bloke on the side!” she snapped.

“Easy, Hermione,” Ginny cautioned. “Don’t get defensive. You said there was a boy that comes round…so you must think something of this boy or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

There was a tremendous sigh on Hermione’s behalf. She hadn’t been able to stop obsessing over Nigel since the night she’d met him at Twizted Knickerz. It hadn’t helped her situation at all when she’d found him trussed up in bondage in Severus’ room the night before. The way the ridiculous little twit doted on Severus with great affection made her bristle. But she realized in that moment that it only irked her because she knew she would not be allowed to dote on him in the same fashion without it being ridiculed, rebuked, and reprimanded. “Yes, there’s a boy…and literally a boy,” she stressed. “He told me that he was legal age but he wouldn’t tell me how old. He looks far too young for someone S—” Hermione nearly slipped. “For someone so promiscuous.”

Ginny snorted. “Promiscuity doesn’t have an age, Hermione.” She chuckled into her tea and popped two more bourbon creams into her mouth. “So he has a bloke on the side. If you two don’t have an actual relationship— you know, outside of what you do at work— and you’re just having sex for the hell of it inside the house, then why does it bother you if he has a bloke on the side?”

It was an exasperating question that she’d been grappling with since her initial encounter with the blonde boy. Hermione knew in her heart of hearts that she was not an overly jealous person, but seeing Severus with Nigel boiled her blood into some unrecognizable phantom of the deadly sin of envy. “I’m jealous,” she said after a moment’s consideration.

“Because you want him the way he has this bloke?” Ginny asked. Hermione nodded. “But you said he’s bisexual, right?”

Hermione groaned. “He is— well, no. I mean, I don’t know. He doesn’t identify with labels. He’s slept with witches and wizards— and I think this boy is a muggle— but my point is, he’s mixed up— no, that doesn’t sound right. I don’t mean he doesn’t know what he wants— well, he doesn’t because he’s like Jekyll and Hyde when it comes to wanting me, but I’m trying to say that he doesn’t seem to have a preference. Does that make sense? Like he seems to want to sleep with whatever, boys, girls, doesn’t matter to him.”

Ginny shook her head. “Well you certainly don’t encounter that every day.” She frowned as she reached into the package of bourbon creams and drew out the last one. “I swear Harry’s been into these…” she muttered.

“Not at all that I’ve just watched you eat a good dozen of them in the last five minutes?” Hermione chuckled.

“Hush, when you and your beaux get pregnant you come and talk to me about what all you do and don’t eat.”

Hermione blanched. “We will not be getting pregnant. He is not the fathering type,” she swallowed the remnants of her teacup. “And I am certainly not the mothering sort either.”

Ginny stood from the chair and crossed the kitchen into the pantry. She returned a moment later with a sleeve of Jaffa Cakes, cracking into them as if she hadn’t just polished off an entire half package of the bourbon creams. “So he’s into whatever, and he has a bloke on the side and you fancy him and you two had a row. Was it about you fancying him?”

“Sort of. He said that I didn’t know what I want and put me out for the night.”

“Well that wasn’t very nice of him,” Ginny said.

“I know. And he told me to go sleep with someone else until I could figure out what I did want from him!” Hermione snatched a Jaffa Cake and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Did he really say that?” Ginny gasped.

“Well…” Hermione chewed the rest of the Jaffa Cake before answering. “Not in so many words, but he did tell me to go and find someone else to be with for the night, and made it very clear that he meant sexually.”

“Right. So that’s how you ended up in Tunis. What is Charlie doing there now anyway?” Ginny asked.

Hermione shuddered trying not to think about the dreadful house and its repugnant smell. “I honestly couldn’t say, Gin. But his…” she blushed. “His…well…you know, when Ron and I split…”

“Oh! Oh, right. I hexed him hard for that,” she paused a moment. “And then you went and made good on it, didn’t you,” she said with a sigh and roll of her eyes. “And that just further confused you? Please do not tell me you’ve started feeling something for my brother, he’s never been interested in settling down and would sooner give you The Flinge before he gives you a ring.”

Hermione shuddered. The Flinge was a putrid sexual-magical transmitted infection, which she hadn’t even considered when she’d decided to bed down with Charlie the night before. She’d only heard stories from her days at Hogwarts and remembered a paragraph about it in the tome that Severus had given her. She was overcome with a desire to cleanse herself again. There had been no signs or symptoms and she prayed for the next 24 hours there would not be.

“No, Gin, I’m not feeling things for Charlie. In fact, I think it did make me realize that I do feel things for S—” again she nearly slipped. “For someone that I never thought I’d feel things for…my housemate.”

Ginny sighed with relief. “Good. So go and tell your housemate that. And then kick him in the shin for tossing you out to Charlie.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself as she chuckled. “He didn’t toss me out to Charlie, I’m pretty sure it was my preference as to who I went to, if I went to anyone at all.” She paused thoughtfully. “Though he was a generous lover, and rather skilled—”

“Nope.” Said Ginny. “I do not want to know. I do not need to know. I will not know. Stop right there because I will hex every last hair off your head if you utter one more word about how my brother is in bed.”

Again Hermione found herself laughing, albeit sheepishly. “Actually, my housemate might approve. He fusses about my hair every chance he gets. It’s too messy, it gets in his way, he finds it everywhere…” she sighed. “But that’s not important.”

“Of course it is,” she said. “I mean, I lopped mine off right after Hogwarts, but really that was because it was such a handful to take care of, even with magic. And with kids— Merlin! I never would have managed. You ever see a witch with kids with long hair, Hermione?” she laughed. “Come to think of it, you ever see a married witch with long hair?” she smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t be crude, Gin,” she said. “Hair aside, I won’t talk about Charlie, though he could stand a haircut, it’s halfway down his back and he looks like a wild man from Borneo with that beard.”

Ginny scrunched up her nose. “He’s grown a beard in again? Ugh.”

“Ugh indeed. It was unpleasant just about everywhere, especially when he went—” the murderous glare from across the table pulled Hermione into immediate silence. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Right. Well, look, Hermione, if you fancy him for more than just sex, your housemate not Charlie, then tell him. Maybe that’s all he needs to hear to give up that side bloke, or what have you.” Ginny paused to sip her tea and Hermione heard the front door open. “Or maybe it isn’t, I don’t know, but you won’t know until you tell him, that’s for certain.”

“Mummy!” came the cry from the front of the house.

“And my respite of a quiet house has ended,” Ginny sighed dramatically. “Are you staying for supper?” she asked.

“I can’t, work at five tonight. We had last night off so George wants to make up for lost time,” she said and stood from the kitchen table.

“Ah well, next time. And maybe once you work things out with your beaux you can bring him round for tea?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny. It was shocking how similar she sounded to Molly. Hermione hugged Ginny and gave a quick hello hug and kiss to Harry on her way out. There was only a bit of time before she was due at the workshop and she did not wish to travel back to Spinner’s End. Airing out her mind with Ginny had helped put clarity into the situation. It did follow logically that she fancied Severus, even if he thought she knew nothing about it. And she was jealous of Nigel. Telling him all of those things, however, was going to be a different story, one that was bound to be messy and unfortunate. But that would have to wait at the very least until after their evening’s work with George.

When Hermione arrived in the Joke Shop, George was ushering the last few customers of the day to the door. “Head on up, we’ve got the first little while to ourselves,” he hollered to her. “Severus is going to be late.”

That simple statement soured Hermione’s stomach as she dragged her feet up the stairs to the second story and then further still to the halfway landing that led into the workshop. Why was he going to be late? She doubted very much that he would have given a reason, though she intended to ask George when he joined her. Hermione’s mind immediately jumped to a worst case scenario wherein he and Nigel were having some fantastical romp, which would be guised as a lesson, and he had to finish with the silly little swot before coming into work. She tried desperately to push that notion from her mind.

“Right, so I’ve got something you can test without him, hopefully he won’t be too long,” said George, closing the door to the workshop. “He didn’t say how long he would be, mind you, just that he was going to be running behind schedule. I imagine if he meant to be a real long time he would have noted, or sent a second owl by now.” Hermione nodded numbly as she began to undress, slipping into her robe. It seemed strange to be in the workshop without Severus. She tried not to dwell on his whereabouts.

She was donned in her robe and standing by the work table, which was once again a table when George came up beside her. “And I think Snape will be pleased. I’ve ordered a proper bed. Though it won’t get here until tomorrow. So that way we have the table and the bed and when we get back up into my flat for the rest of the bath stuff in a few days, we’ll have all the testing surfaces we need.” He was grinning as he spoke and then set a small container down on the table.

“What is that?” she asked. Hermione leaned closer to inspect the product. It looked like a pill case or a small jewelry container, which never boded well for whatever was inside.

“Nifty Nipples,” he said. George had wandered back to the ledger and Hermione often wondered why he didn’t simply enchant the ledger to hover and follow him as he milled about the workshop. “Nifty Nipples will spruce up your evening with novelty shapes and colors for a special surprise for that special someone.”

Hermione frowned. “Like that cream from day one?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “This is more for visual aesthetic, and we won’t need anyone to lick you and see if you taste different.” George nodded at the package. “Fred’s notes only indicate Glimmer Gold-Star and Lavender Love-Heart.”

When Hermione peeled open the lip of the container four small objects that looked like the sugared crunchy bits from the morning cereals she was never allowed to eat as a child were resting inside. Two were shaped like hearts in a faintly purple hue and the other two were distinctly gold and shaped like stars. Plucking up one of the stars she noted the way it squished in her hand, almost like a stress ball. “And do I just place them on my…” she gestured over the front of her robe.

George was reading the ledger. “Says squeeze between thumb and finger until flat and dab on.” He shrugged. “So— do that.”

“Right.” Hermione pressed the little squishy charm between her thumb and finger and felt it crunch. It reminded her of an air-puffed biscuit. There was no scent only a splattered golden star stuck to the pad of her index finger. With a shrug she drew aside the lapels of her robe, letting them dangle open, and dabbed her finger against the center of her nipple. The shimmery gold star transferred itself from skin to skin and she felt her nipple grow taut. “It tightens on contact,” she said, realizing she sounded a bit like Severus in her clinical observation. “And it— oh!” she cried, looking down at her chest. Her right nipple was indeed stiff and indeed a shiny gold, but the normally rounded pebble had puckered into a sharpened five-pointed star.

“Blimey,” George said. He snatched up his quill and began scratching away in the ledger. “Can you do the other one, the second star, that’s a nifty trick.”

Repeating the process, Hermione stood with her chest exposed, both nipples gleaming and glinting in the light of the workshop shaped like identical gold stars. She touched her newly-shaped nipples. They were taut and firm. She gave them a squeeze and rubbed her thighs together. “I think it makes them just a bit more sensitive,” she confessed with a blush.

“Good…good…” said George.

Hermione bit her lower lip and gazed down her chest, wishing for a moment that she had a mirror. “They are strangely novel,” she said with the faintest of smiles crossing her lips. “Do you think they hold their shape when being— well…” despite her forward behavior with Severus at the house on Spinner’s End, she found herself full of prudency and the inability to articulate her thoughts on the matter without first blushing like a virgin. “If they were being stimulated orally?”

George paused the scratching in his ledger, looked up, and frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Something that should only take a moment to sort out, Mr. Weasley.” Severus’ voice surprised Hermione, her head whirling to the workshop door. He was striding over to the hook, draping his traveling cloak on the hook next to her clothes. In moments he was donned in his workshop robe and standing beside her, scrutinizing her breasts. Surely they couldn’t have been at work all but a few moments? It occurred to Hermione as he continued to gaze at her chest that he was rarely prompt, always at least a moment or two early and naturally just a few minutes’ tardiness would have prompted an owl.

Her breath caught in her throat when he squeezed her breast without warning and then lowered his head to flick his tongue at her star-shaped nipple. It was much like the very first time he’d touched her in the workshop, unexpected but pleasant. His tongue was warm, tracing the stiffened five-point shape of her nipple and she closed her eyes, not trusting herself in that moment. He was thorough; he was always thorough. And he was nothing like Charlie. His lips were gentler somehow, even though she knew they possessed the ability to be rough, even though she knew they were responsible for every mark on her body. Her eyes flew open at the thought that when she would disrobe all of the bite marks and bruises would be visible. She’d been so shaken by the encounter with Charlie Weasley in Tunis that she’d completely disregarded the notion of a glamour.

Severus pulled his lips back from her nipple and nodded at George. “The color and shape seem to hold firmly, the stiffness already quite full from the application.”

“Great,” he said. “Um, there’s a spray bottle of the cleanser we’ve been using on the shelf,” he added and turned his head back into the pages of the ledger.

Hermione waited for him to hand her the bottle, surprised when he sprayed the cloth himself and eased it over first her left and then her right nipple. She was cautious in her attempt to catch his eye, but he was intent on ignoring her, or so it seemed. This was frustrating. But she also wasn’t entirely sure she would be able to keep herself composed if he let his eyes delve deeply into hers as he so often did. He would find a world of turmoil there, as he always did, only this time she wouldn’t be able to keep it all from tumbling out of her mouth. Resigned to the fact that it was going to be an impossible night, she redoubled her efforts to focus and cleared her throat to address George. “The heart ones then?”

“Yes, please,” he said, not looking up from his notes.

Repeating the process she had with the stars, Hermione found her nipples transformed into little purple hearts. They did not appear as taut or as sensitive as the stars had made her feel, but she shrugged it off and allowed Severus to ply his tongue and lips first to her left and then her right nipple. “These do not hold their shape,” he noted to George. Hermione looked down. He was right, already her left nipple had begun to flatten against her chest, hardly stiff despite his actions and the perfectly pinched heart shape was more of a purple oval.

“Not like the stars did.”

“Right,” said George. “Severus, come take a look at this formula. There must be something about the way the lavender coloration has been incorporated that’s impacting the shaping charm,” he waved Severus over, leaving Hermione to cleanse her own breasts with the spray and cloth. She watched quietly as they talked in muted whispers, debating the notions of the formula and whether or not picking a different color would make a difference in the retention of the charm’s shaped enchantment. While Hermione had been a more than proficient student during her days at Hogwarts, even receiving an ‘O’ on her O.W.L.S. in charms, it had not been offered or required to take as a N.E.W.T.S. level class, and her experience with advanced-state charms, such as the one George and Severus were currently discussing, was minimal.

A moment later their conversation had ceased and Hermione found both men to be staring at her. “What?” she asked.

“Didn’t you hear me, Hermione?” George asked.

She shook her head. Had she been lost in her own thoughts again? Had her mind been wandering away on notions of Severus and what had made him late, so much so that she’d tuned George out? She sighed and moved to join them at the little table by the ledger. She did not look at Severus, afraid that he would search her eyes and slip into her mind. She was still rather cross about the fact that he’d been probing her mind and she fully intended to address that when they returned home that evening. The pit of her stomach lurched suddenly as it dawned on her that after whatever conversation it was they were no doubt going to have that perhaps she would be in need of another place to stay. She would not be going back to Tunis, of that she was certain. Though she supposed after the discussion she’d had with Ginny that afternoon that going back to the Potter residence wasn’t completely out of the question should he decide that she need to find lodgings elsewhere.

“Miss Granger?” it was Severus’ voice that slipped into her conscious. Startled, Hermione turned her eyes to him, blushing as she realized that her mind had done it again. “Are you feeling well?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. Hermione bit her lower lip and then casually added. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

Before she could note Severus’ reaction to her comment or allow for him to retort, George was interrupting them both. “So the Joke Convention is confirmed!” he grinned. “A few weeks from now, like I said— Thursday arrival with late Sunday departure, and they’ve got the rooms all squared away. We’ve got three shots at presentation too. They’re an hour long demo session— one on Friday evening, and a big slot during the hot-spot late Saturday afternoon and a late morning one on Sunday. They’re prime times.” He was brimming with excitement as he explained the news.

Hermione felt her head spinning. She must have looked as if she were going to fall over because a firm and steady hand braced her shoulder. She didn’t need to look back to know it was Severus. She closed her eyes, inhaling through her nose then slowly exhaling through her mouth. Breathing in that manner was the only thing that helped the dizziness ebb from her head. When she opened her eyes, George was staring at her, looking a bit concerned.

“Hermione, are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, George,” she said. “Just haven’t eaten much today,” she sighed. “At least the room stopped spinning, anyway. Now get on with what you were talking about.”

“You said you had itineraries, Mr. Weasley? Perhaps you would take this moment to retrieve them and give Ms. Granger a moment to compose herself and eat something.” Severus nodded to George.

“I’m fine, Severus,” Hermione rolled her eyes but swayed as she turned to face him. Blushing, she looked to him sheepishly before saying, “Maybe I’ll just sit a moment.”

George frowned and looked from Hermione to Severus. He seemed to take his cue from Severus and departed the workshop without another word. A wave of Severus’ hand brought the stool over and he eased Hermione down onto it, keeping his hand on her shoulder. She was frustrated with herself but too dizzy to chastise herself. She felt his hand shift as he moved around to stand in front of her, searching her face with those stalwart, albeit concerned, dark eyes.

“I said I’m fine…” she swayed slightly as she spoke.

“What else have you eaten today besides shortbread fingers, Miss Granger?” he asked.

Hermione felt her face flush. He was reading her mind again and it was infuriating. “None of your—”

His finger paused her lips. “This is not the time or place for an attitude,” he admonished. “And before you start barking about the invasion of your mind, I noticed the crumbs on your jumper on the hook,” he nodded toward the door to the workshop.

She would have blushed and fetched a scathing remark to throw at him had her head still not felt as if it were swimming through the air. It was incredibly warm despite the fact that she was only in her robe and Hermione felt sick to her stomach. At first she’d thought that it was merely hearing more about the joke convention that had sent her into a physiological tailspin. She worried that she was having a mild panic attack of sorts, but there was no gasping for breath or tightening in her chest. Hermione closed her eyes, hoping that the spinning would stop, only it seemed to disorient her further. Trembling fingers reached out to clutch his hand, and she shivered as a cold chill swept through her. “Something’s wrong,” she chattered, her teeth clicking suddenly as if a great frost had seized her body.

Severus pulled her too her feet in one fluid motion from the stool; she was swept up into his arms. “I’ll need to run a diagnostic, but you’re exhibiting symptoms of Flinge,” he muttered. Hermione sobbed outright, her head falling against his chest. She felt the back of his hand against her brow and then felt his fingers smoothing back her hair. Her logical mind would have wondered how he was holding her aloft and stroking her head at the same time, but all she could think of in that moment was how cold she was.

“Blimey— is she okay? Hermione? Are you alright?” it was George’s voice, drawing closer to her. But she did not wish to open her eyes.

“She’s taken ill, Mr. Weasley,” said Severus. “Nothing too serious.”

“Should we take her home? Maybe she should rest here— or up in my flat?” he offered.

Severus shook his head. “I’ll escort her out, Mr. Weasley. I’ve basic medical training enough to ascertain whether it is serious,” he added.

“Right,” George sounded slightly lost. “Well— well, alright, I guess. Scrap tonight then.”

“Indeed,” he said. Without stopping to gather their clothes, Severus swept—with her cradled in his arms— through the workshop and down the stairs. “Hold very still,” he said to her and began to mutter. It was some sort of cloaking charm, Hermione recognized that much, but she’d begun to sweat and was feeling far too hot to pay any proper attention to whatever he was doing. She imagined he was protecting them from sight as they were still clad only in their workshop robes, but she didn’t get the chance to find out.

The sickening pull of apparition tugged ferociously at her stomach and she curled into his arms all the more until she felt herself retch against his shoulder when his feet landed on the ground. There was another whisper of a spell, no doubt to clear the bile from his shoulder, but Hermione was too swept up in the chills that had returned and the dizziness that was plaguing her body. The clash of a door was followed by the dimness of light and then she felt herself being eased out of his arms. Hermione whimpered, clutching at him.

“I’m right here,” he said sliding her arms down away from him. “Flinge has never killed a witch or wizard,” He muttered and then he was gone. Hermione’s eyes were closed or maybe they were open and she had gone blind. She couldn’t tell. But then she felt him, his large warm hands, easing her robe off her body, and guiding her head back down onto the— where had he laid her? It did not feel like her bed, or even his bed. Blinking rapidly she shifted her head from side to side. “You’re on the couch, Miss Granger. Just lie still,” he said.

Severus was knelt on the floor at her side, three small cauldrons beside him. One was empty, the other filled with a thick purple liquid and the third seemed to hold only little bits of rags. Hermione blinked at the cauldrons and then at him. “What— what’s happening?” she asked, her voice pinched with fright. Her whole body felt unwell, worse than any flu or cold she could ever recall.

“You’ve contracted Flinge,” he said. “No doubt from that idiot Weasley in that cesspit in Tunis.” When her eyes grew wide he shook his head. “We will talk about that later,” he said and then paused, touching his hand gently to her cheek. “I promise.” This did not ease Hermione’s mind in the least as a terrible spasm seized her body. She shook violently on the couch and felt as if she were suffocating. Two strong hands pressed firmly down on her shoulders and she whimpered. “Try to stay calm,” he said.

There was something in his voice that found her mind and eased it. She couldn’t explain it, though her body continued to quake, first with little spasms of nerve and then with chill. And then she was sweating once more. Her knowledge of the illness was limited. She had never had cause to experience it nor had she reason to thoroughly research it, but Severus seemed to know what he was doing. She was grateful for him in that moment. Her mind was too scattered, too busy trying to fight off the rolling waves of hot and cold to try and figure out how he’d known that she’d gone to Charlie. But he had promised they would discuss it later.

“I’m c-c-cold,” she shivered.

“And in a moment you’ll be boiling,” he said and held his wand out over her body. Slow sweeping motions over her figure had the tip of his wand glowing purple. “Flinge,” he sighed and then shook his head. “It isn’t going to be pleasant, and we have to address it now,” he said with haste. Whatever that meant had Hermione terrified but she nodded her head just the same. Despite all he’d said, despite the way he’d thrown her out the night before and told her that she knew nothing of him and had no reason to trust him, she did. She trusted him in that moment. Whatever the sexual-magical infection was doing to her, she trusted him to sort it out. “I need you to spread your legs,” he said and began to pull her thighs apart.

Hermione did not resist him, though she felt as if a wave of unrelenting cold was sweeping through her. “C-c-can’t I have a b-b-blanket?” she shivered.

“Just lie still, Miss Granger,” He said, keeping one hand pressed on her hip to keep her down on the couch.

“S-s-so cold, S-S-Severus,” she continued to shiver. Hermione’s eyes watched him as best she could as he drew a rag from the first cauldron, dipped it into the purple liquid and then brought it between her legs. He was pressing inside of her with the rag and she whimpered. A tightness knotted in her abdomen and she pressed her thighs together, squeezing his wrist between her legs.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. Severus looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

“What are you doing?” she whimpered. Hermione could feel beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. She was inexplicably hot. “Gods it’s hot in here,” she panted, fanning herself with both hands. “Take my clothes off.”

“They are off, Miss. Granger,” he said and pulled his hand back from between her legs. Severus dropped the rag into the empty cauldron and picked up another rag. Again he dipped it into the purple solution and repeated the process. It felt like hours, or maybe it was only minutes, Hermione couldn’t be sure. He would stop every few moments and press the back of his hand to her forehead. And he ran his wand over her several times more. The cauldron that had been empty was now filled with sodden rags and the purple solution was gone by the time he had stopped. Her body was drenched in sweat but she was no longer melting or freezing.

He was silent as he eased her up from the sofa. She felt weak; her arms hung limply at her side as he brought her up to her feet. Hermione was scooped up into his arms and before she could properly follow what was happening, she found herself in the bathroom. He placed her into the shower and leaned her gently against the wall, never fully letting go of her. It was a surreal experience, as if she were watching what was happening to her from outside of her body. While he was fiddling with the faucet, she noticed for the first time that he was wearing clothes. She hadn’t recalled when he would have left her side long enough to change out of his workshop robe, but he was dressed, trousers and a shirt, both black.

There was water, but only a trickle. This was not the delicious pressure that she had grown accustomed to from the shower at Spinner’s End. Hermione closed her eyes and all but lost hold of her consciousness. She was slipping in and out of reality. There was darkness and then she was in the shower, being held upright with his firm, warm hands washing over her. There was soap and water and then darkness again. The whole ordeal was quite exhausting. It was like blinking in slow motion with a delayed reaction. If he spoke, she heard nothing. She couldn’t even properly hear the sound of the water running, but she didn’t seem to mind as her head lulled forward and once more she found herself in darkness.

Hermione woke, though she wasn’t sure what had woken her. The room was not completely dark, though the overhead light was off. She frowned and then realized she was in her bed in her room at Spinner’s End. She was tucked under her duvet and as she sat up she realized that she was wearing clothes. They were clothes that were not her own. A soft cotton shirt that was so worn-in it was the most comfortable thing she’d ever felt. A pair of flannel pajama bottoms were tucked up around her waist and were rumpled at her ankles. She suspected they were pants that were too long for her. She felt her face fill with heat as she realized that he must have dressed her in his own clothes after the ordeal in the shower. It was then that she felt his eyes on her.

Sitting in the corner of her room at her desk chair, facing the bed, was Severus. His eyes were still, his arms crossed over his chest. If his eyes hadn’t been open, she might have mistook him for sleeping. Hermione felt a knot tighten in her stomach, though it was nothing like the discomfort she had felt earlier. A wave of embarrassment swept through her as the memories of the previous 24 hours flooded into her mind. There were only fragments of things from her time in the workshop through to where she found herself presently, in her bed in his pajamas, but everything before that was crystalline. The conversation with Ginny, the shortbread fingers, waking up in Tunis and fleeing the scene before Charlie could return, the night with Charlie that she regretted. All of those things were fluid in her mind, though she wished her night with Charlie was not.

Hermione wanted to speak. A part of her needed to thank him, though she was dreadfully embarrassed. Flinge was not something she had a working familiarity of and had it not been for him, she had no idea what would have happened to her. Another part of her wanted to throttle him. If it hadn’t been for him she never would have ended up with Charlie in the first place. Though she supposed she couldn’t exactly blame him for her carelessness. She had jumped into bed with Charlie without any sort of protection outside of her monthly pregnancy potion, and it served her right. She hung her head, feeling dirty in that moment, not wishing for him to see her eyes.

There was a rustle of fabric as Severus rose from the chair in the corner and stepped toward the bed. “How do you feel?” he asked. Hermione had expected that he was going to hover over her, or perhaps move to the door. It shocked her quite soundly when he moved beside her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He did not touch her, but sat rather close, and Hermione had difficulty swallowing.

“Fine,” she said. “Well, not fine. Tired,” she admitted. “Embarrassed,” she added. “But I’m not cold, or hot. And I don’t feel dizzy.”

“Good,” he said and then slowly rose from her bed.

“Are you—” but she stopped herself. Hermione honestly had no idea what she was thinking.

Severus raised an eyebrow up on his forehead. “Am I…” he held her gaze. “Am I what? Miss Granger?”

She shook her head quickly. “Nothing.”

“No doubt you remember my promise that we would speak,” he said with a hint of exasperation. She only nodded. Her silence seemed to surprise them both. It was a long moment before he addressed her again. “You need food,” And without another word, he swept from her room. Hermione closed her eyes and then wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. She inhaled deeply. The scent of him, though muted, was woven into the shirt and it was comforting. It held the tears that she felt welling up in the corners of her eyes at bay and after a few more deep breaths, she felt alright, if still a bit tired.

Severus returned rather quickly, a bowl balanced in one hand and a mug in the other. He made short work of placing things on her nightstand before taking up his post at her desk chair, though not before pulling it close to the edge of the bed. Hermione tried not to frown that he had not joined her on the mattress. The contents of the bowl looked watery, but she could feel the heat rising from its surface as she picked up the spoon. “Don’t expect much,” he said. “It’s packaged mix with heated water.”

Hermione nodded. She refused to smile as she sipped the first spoonful. It wasn’t dreadful, though it was certainly nothing to owl Molly Weasley about. But she was too pleased with the fact that he’d went through the trouble of making her soup— even if it was just packaged mix with heated water— to really notice that it tasted bland. At least it was hot. The herbal concoction in the mug was bitter, but it felt soothing against the back of her throat. Choosing not to question it, she drank it slowly, alternating between it and the watery packaged soup.

When she’d finished the entire bowl of soup and most of the mug, she placed them both back on her nightstand and folded her hands into her lap. It was a strange gesture, but she didn’t know what else to do with them, afraid that if she kept her hands unoccupied that she might start speaking out of turn. There were dozens of questions racing about inside her head, the one jockeying to the front being how exactly he had known that she’d contracted Flinge from Charlie, but she would wait. It wasn’t a game in that moment. Hermione wanted to ask her questions but didn’t wish to start a row or have him out before she’d received all of her answers.

His eyes searched hers for a good long while, and she tried not to waver under his scrutiny. Only it wasn’t scrutiny, not even an observation, but more of a gaze that was unyielding. She couldn’t understand to what end, as he too seemed to have questions, or at the very least statements he wished to make, but remained as was his fashion, quiet. Hermione worried that perhaps he would not speak at all. Drawing in a slow and steadying breath, she bowed her head for a moment as if in silent prayer, and then lifted her eyes to meet his. “Thank you,” she offered.

Severus met her gaze and held it. He nodded his head. There was silence between them, and it made her uncomfortable, but she was hesitant to fill it with her endless stream of questions that were all but bursting to fly out of her mouth. He seemed to sense this, or at the very least sense that she was about to speak because he leaned forward in the desk chair, bringing his hands together with his elbows resting on his knees. “You are through the worst of it,” he started. “There may be a lingering bit of discomfort upon your next bout of intercourse or a bit of unexpected magical combustion.” The puzzling look on her face gave him cause to elaborate further.

“Flinge is an infection that works like a parasite. Imagine a common virus infecting a host cell, and in the host cell’s attempt to defend against the invasion the wires get crossed. Because of the inherent magic in a witch’s body— particularly one that is sexually awakened to her full menses as you are— your body attempts a scare-tactic on the virus to convince the invaders that it is an unsuitable host.” Severus laced his fingers together. “If the body fails to repel the invading infection, or is left untreated, the parasite leeches away magic from your body. The effects can be mild to detrimental. Rare cases have resulted in the complete loss of magical ability.”

“Did I lose any of my magic?” she asked, her voice fraught with concern.

Severus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s difficult to say, but given the way your body responded I would cautiously say no, or if you did it is minor and recoverable.”

“Do people not often respond that way?” Hermione wished that her voice was not quaking so much.

He shook his head. “Because you are a younger witch, your magic is still developing, so even if you did lose some ability, you would most likely regenerate it. That said, because you are a younger witch whose sexual awakening and full menses has occurred, your body was in a sense more prepared for it.”

Hermione nodded her head. It made sense. The words he spoke, the way he spoke them, and she was even retaining bits of what he was saying. But her mind was focused mainly on how foolish she had been, and how she had acted with no regard to the consequences. A part of her was furious with herself, and another part was furious with him. But as she thought about being furious with him, she realized it was only misdirected anger and disappointment in her emotional instability that was making him her target. He had pushed her out and in her haste to prove to him or perhaps to herself that she knew what she wanted, she’d jumped blindly into bed with the first wizard that had crossed her mind.

“Are you certain you are feeling better?” he asked.

She noted the concern in his voice and she wondered if she were sweating or if she’d gone pale. Hermione wiggled her toes under the duvet, feeling the material of his pajama pants. She nodded her head. “Yes. I’m alright. Just tired.”

Severus frowned. “Then you should rest.” Without further words he rose from the chair.

Hermione sighed. “I did want to ask—” she hesitated, noting how her words stopped him. “Er, maybe I should just rest.”

He turned to face her, his eyes quizzically searching her face. “If you are too tired for conversation, perhaps you are not as well as I thought.”

Hermione didn’t mean to laugh and the sound that escaped her lips was half of a chuckle met with a scoff. “It’s not that,” she admitted a bit sheepishly. “I just don’t want to start a row,” she confessed. “While I’m not too tired for conversation, I know I’m far too tired to be arguing and shouting with you.”

She watched his black eyebrow quirk up onto his forehead. “And you assume that such would happen from whatever it is you intend to ask me?”

She nodded her head. “You knew about Charlie…” Hermione could feel her cheeks filling with blush, half in anger and half in embarrassment. “And I suspect that whatever it is you have to say on how you knew about him isn’t going to sit well with me.”

“Indeed.” Severus crossed his arms over his chest. He continued to stare at her.

She didn’t know what to make of him. He had brought her back from the workshop the moment he realized there was something seriously wrong with her. And although her recollection of what he’d done for her was fuzzy and fragmented, she’d surmised that it had at the very least involved bathing her by hand and changing her into fresh clothes. It could all be written off as a simple kindness, as he had told her when assisting her with her menstrual pains. Or it could be justified as what any human being with a moral conscious would do. She couldn’t help but feel as if he’d done it for other reasons, though she wasn’t about to interrogate him over his motivations.

“Severus,” she started with caution. “Even if we don’t end up speaking on it tonight, I do need to be perfectly clear that I do not want you poking around in my mind. It’s unethical, among other things, and I’m not—”

“Stop just there.” He said. His words halted hers and Hermione was surprised that she had fallen silent. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her. Since they’d been engaging in their work with George whenever he raised a hand, or pressed his finger to her lips, or told her to be quiet, she had obeyed. There was something about the way he demanded her to be quiet, even without raising his voice, that made her follow the command unquestionably. When she remained quiet for a moment and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, as she had not been able to look directly at him when she’d started, he continued. “I don’t go poking about in your mind.”

“But you—”

“Hermione,” he said sternly.

It startled her once more into silence. It was only the third time he’d dared to use her name. She could no more explain his intentional disuse of her given name than she could understand it. His off-handed quip about not using it to drive her mad may have held truth to it, but she doubted it was the sole reason he continued to use her surname. Whatever his reasons, they’d been shoved aside for the moment, and his use of her given name had forced her undivided, albeit surprised, attention silently to him.

“You are a book,” he said after a long silence. “You are easy to read, and I am a master of observation. It’s a matter of logic and observation. Nothing more.”

Hermione thought this over for a moment. His argument made sense. He had said he’d observed the shortbread crumbs on her jumper, and combined with her dizziness, naturally it would have prompted such a question as to what else she had eaten. And she supposed even if he hadn’t seen the repressed memory of being raped, logically given the way she was desperate to forget it and his own experience with repressing memories he would have known it was still there. The only way to truly remove a memory from the mind was through obliteration, and although she’d considered it from time to time, it was far too risky a practice to dabble with. She frowned after a moment’s further consideration. “That still doesn’t explain how you knew about Charlie.”

Severus sighed. Hermione watched him carefully as he moved back around the bed to where she was sitting upright. He was deliberate in how he perched himself on the edge of the mattress. She noted that he was close enough that he could touch her with ease if he chose to, but also just far enough back that it would have to be an intentional gesture to do so. “I followed you.” He said simply.

“What?” Hermione asked, eyes wide.

There was a seriousness that crossed his voice that Hermione had yet to hear in their conversations. “I put you out of this house knowing that you would fight,” he said. Hermione’s eyes were glued to his as he spoke, unable to look away, unable to do anything but hang on his every word. “You are stubborn and you are forever pushing your boundaries. It was more than a safely calculated bet that within moments you were going to storm back into the house demanding to rehash the conversation or at the very least blow-up in my face, the result of which would have no doubt been a second round of vigorously violent sex.”

Hearing the words fall from his mouth was a bit like watching an explosion in slow motion. The exact moment of impact was witnessed and felt seconds before it happened. It struck through her and sank into the pit of her stomach with a heavy thud. But all she could do was listen further to his words, her mind racing to divine meaning from them as he explained his intentions from the previous night.

“I watched you from the window. I had never expected you would stand there so stricken with your zeal deflated so thoroughly that you would actually follow through on my instructions.” He sighed. “But I was not going to chase out into the street after you and insist you come back inside. Stubborn distance will always be chosen over blatant hypocrisy.” Again he paused and Hermione found her heart racing. It was impossible to believe what she was hearing. “I waited, and you foolishly— though thankfully— dropped that little scrap of paper.”

“You followed me.” She repeated. Hermione could not believe what she was hearing.

“You are not a parrot,” he said. “And before you start asking— I was a spy for more years than you have been alive. I am very good at not being noticed or detected when I do not wish to be.”

She was numb. Numbed by shock and surprise and frustration. She didn’t know what to say. Her mind may have been jumbled but her lips were blasting before she could control them, though her voice was surprisingly calm. “That still doesn’t explain how you knew it was Charlie— he didn’t sign his name on the note.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I saw him leave the next morning.”

If she had been numb before she was blindsided now. Not only had he followed her to Tunis, but he’d waited for her. Hidden like a spy on a reconnaissance mission, Severus had waited for her on the filthy streets of Tunis while she had been intimate with Charlie Weasley in his foul-smelling house. She felt her throat tighten. “But— but— why?”

It was the first time he had not held her gaze while responding. “I pushed you out and you did not fight back,” he said with the smallest of shrugs. Had she not been watching him she would have missed the gesture entirely. “I hadn’t given you your wand because I had not anticipated that you would do anything other than fight your way back through the front door. When you disapparated…” She watched him swallow, the subtle hint of his Adam’s apple bobbing tightly in his throat as he did. “It was not my intention to have harm come to you. No witch or wizard should ever apparate anywhere, especially not such a distance, without their wand.”

For a moment Hermione felt the urge to shout at him, but she checked it. It wouldn’t change anything. “You waited all night?” she asked, knowing full well the answer was yes if he had seen Charlie take off the next morning. She was surprised when he did not admonish her.

“When you did not emerge from that hovel of a pit Weasley’s calling home, I garnered what I could about the place before determining whether or not I would need to intercede.” He said.

“Because you felt guilty?”

Severus raised his eyes to hers. It was a challenge more than anything else, but his words continued to astound her. “To a degree I felt responsible for your misguided actions. If you were foolish enough to act on my words that was one thing. Tossing you out without your wand was hardly fair.”

Hermione closed her eyes. “I’m sorry— I— Severus— how could you—”

“I do not expect you to be accepting of my actions. I am not apologizing for them. I am answering your question.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. There was a rawness to his voice that reminded her very much of the statement he’d made about Nigel being eager the first night they’d encountered him in the sex shop. It was a truly uncharted and vulnerable side of him, a confession that had come from the heart and she wasn’t sure whether to embrace it or be frightened by it. Was that his way of saying he did care? Or simply of assuaging his own guilt? He hadn’t really meant for her to go and fuck another man, he’d only been pushing her buttons. That infuriated her. But it was also strangely endearing. She couldn’t juxtapose the two notions in her head and was seized by sudden wave of emotions that made perfect sense and no sense to her all at the same time.

“When you emerged from that pit and disapparated…” Severus nodded.

“You followed me to Ginny’s?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Certainly not. Only back to Spinner’s End.”

It was the most forthcoming he had been with information since she’d settled into the house with him, if the few weeks that she’d been there could be called settled. Hermione didn’t know what to make of it. He’d thrown her out— a foolish head game throttled into action by his stubborn pride— and he’d followed her to Tunis— a distorted show of protectiveness— the thoughts were jumbling in her head and she wanted to scream at him until her throat was raw and hug him at the same time. When her mind failed to reconcile her jumbled emotions, she found herself falling back on what she knew best, further questions. “Why didn’t I show signs immediately?”

He was quick to answer and she noted that he looked just the slightest bit relieved that she’d stopped asking about his behavior. Though she was far from done with that line of questioning. “Flinge isn’t always immediate, it can lie dormant for a day or two, sometimes longer. I suspect with your heightened state of emotional turmoil your body was already hypersensitive and thus acclimated to the invasion that much sooner, bringing on the symptoms when you could take no more mental anguish.”

“George and the joke convention,” she said idly. There was so much she still lacked in regards to her own sexuality and the way emotions and magic tied into it all. She was so frustrated with the whole experience but could hardly lay all of her frustrations on him. He was an enormous part of it, but she was responsible for her own feelings, even if they were twisted every which way because of him. Hermione shook her head slowly. “I don’t know any more now than when I left the house,” she admitted. The confession came from the back of her mind, derailing the conversation away from the infection she’d picked up and back to the train wreck that had resulted from their little head game.

“The intention was not for you to solidify your desires, Miss Granger.” He said.

She groaned. “Please. Will you please just— is that too much to ask?” she asked.

When he did not meet her eyes, she swallowed hard. “It is not so simple. Much like everything I’ve told you from the beginning,” he paused, and then swallowed. “Hermione.”

Hermione tried to wrap her head around his words. Did using her given name cause him pain somehow? Did it trouble him and remind him of a time long ago that he’d tried to forget? Surely calling her by her surname would be more reminiscent of their time spent as pupil and professor at Hogwarts than addressing her by her given name. He had never once addressed her as anything other than Miss Granger during her time in school. While at first she’d thought it had solely been to screw with her, and push the limitations of her patience, she was beginning to wonder if there was something deeper to it than his little games, than their little games.

She frowned when he stood from the bed. “You need rest,” he said. He’d said it before and for a moment she was seized with panic. What if she’d been sleeping and imagined the entire conversation? Though her dreams were far less vivid these days, when she did sleep, it had not stopped her from dreaming in live and living color of her interactions with Severus. The look of panic caught his attention and he sighed. “You will be the death of me,” he muttered and then sat back down. “What? I won’t promise it won’t cause a row, but out with it. Don’t make that face.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side. “What face?”

Severus shook his head. “Ask your damn question.”

She sighed. Hermione wasn’t even sure that she had questions worth hearing the answers. He’d been plain enough in his explanations. “Are you— are you always honest with me?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. “What would make you think I am not?”

Hermione bit her lower lip. “Don’t do that, Severus. Don’t deflect answering my question with another question. I don’t have the strength for that game right now.” When he said nothing she closed her eyes. “You said you put me out to push my buttons, or something like that, did you really mean that? That this is all just a game where you push my buttons—”

“You are no innocent there. And you are certainly not a victim,” he said sternly.

Hermione opened her eyes and stared at him. Words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. “He was a decent lay. But he wasn’t you. And even without Flinge— or before it or whatever— it felt dirty. Not in a good way, Severus. And I don’t know that it’s such a good thing for me to feel that way considering you don’t seem to share these feelings.”

Severus stayed quiet. He did not look away from her. Hermione leaned forward. It was an effort and she felt fatigue slithering through her body, reminding her that she’d gone through an ordeal. But she put her hand atop his knee, waiting for him to push it back or tell her she was too bold for her own good. She held her hand there, wondering if he could feel her confusion radiating off of her in waves, traveling through her palm and into him. It didn’t seem to matter. If it did, he didn’t react or respond, but he hadn’t pushed her away.

“I do want sex,” she confessed. “Or my body does. I don’t know.” She bowed her head. “I thought forcing myself to be with someone else would show me that I was only attracted to you? But within minutes my body was responding to him.” She hastily added, “But it wasn’t the same. I felt conscious. That’s not to say I don’t feel conscious when we’re— when it’s you I’m with. I don’t know how to explain it, Severus. I kept comparing him to you. In my mind, that is, and my mind was wandering. I came— I think, but it wasn’t like what I feel when I’m doing it with you.”

Still he said nothing. Her gibbering confession had done nothing but confirm her insecurities about how and what he felt for her. Hermione closed her eyes. What had she expected? A heartfelt confession from him that despite their games and all that had happened he too was having deeply unsettling feelings that he could not articulate? Her mind was a mess. It had been for as long as she could remember, and entangling herself with Severus Snape had only made it worse. She opened her eyes when she felt his slender fingers slide over her hand and slip between her digits. He squeezed her hand and she shook her head with a mirthful exhale.

“I know I’m not what you want,” she said. Her voice had grown timid, but she forced herself to look him in the eye. “Or at least not what you would prefer.”

“You would do well not to presume you know me so well,” he said. He did not release her hand. “Do not think that because I do not go about gibbering stupid sentiments aloud, or that because I interact differently with others that you have me all figured out in that overworked mind of yours.”

Hermione tried not to blush but she could feel her cheeks warming red. “I wouldn’t have to have you all figured out in this overworked mind of mine if you’d simply speak yours.” She muttered.

“Not everyone’s fashion of expression is conversation, Hermione.” Again he had hesitated before adding her given name.

She bit her bottom lip but there was no finger to pluck it away from her teeth and after a moment she released it of her own accord. She didn’t know what to say to him. She’d hardly been able to articulate her own feelings, largely because she was uncertain of them. There was attraction, definitely physical, but there was an interest beyond the pure sexuality of the man. But he was complicated. Complex was a word used to describe lesser men. Severus was a Rubik’s Cube and all of the stickers had been taken off somewhere along the line before being haphazardly slapped back on, making him impossible to solve for even the smartest mind.

“You don’t express anything,” she said but then shook her head. “Not with me. And I can’t tell if it’s because you have no interest or because you are uncertain of how you do feel about me.” She was surprised when he posed her a question. 

“And you are comparing this to?” he asked, a single black eyebrow drifting upward on his forehead.

Hermione bowed her head and sighed. “Do you love him?” she asked, unable to meet his eyes as she asked.

“I don’t love anyone.” Said Severus.

These words forced her eyes to his. Her mind raced. Did he truly believe himself unworthy of love? Was he so scarred from his life in Voldemort’s service and Dumbledore’s plots that a lifetime of self-loathing in regards to his own love life had formulated? He had not denied himself the pleasures of the flesh. She ached for his heart in that moment. Hermione tugged her fingers from where they rested in his, gently sliding her hand up his left forearm. It moved her body forward until she was up from the headboard, on her knees, crouched beside him, and half leaned over his lap with her palm now resting over his sleeve. He flinched when she covered his mark with her palm, even though it was hidden by his sleeve and no doubt by a glamour.

“What do you do when someone loves you and you don’t love them?” she asked. Her words were barely a whisper and she waited. Waited for the rejection, waited for him to pull her hand away, waiting for any number of things. Hermione would have sat there waiting for him to answer her until the morning’s light graced her bedroom had he not leaned his head forward. His forehead brushed her shoulder and she drew in a sharp breath.

“You do not love me, Hermione.” He said, his voice even more of a whisper than hers had been.

“Don’t presume you know me so well,” she said, wrapping her fingers tightly around his forearm. “Maybe I don’t love you because I’m too young or stupid to know what love is? I don’t know, but I do know that I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you— not just sexually, but also sexually— I want to get to know you— I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

It could have been hours in silence, his forehead rested ever so gently against the side of her shoulder, her hand firm around his forearm. Their breathing was the only sound that filled the room. She longed to hug him. She longed to pull him into her arms and never let him go, or to curl up into his lap and rest in his embrace. But they stayed still, neither speaking until sometime later when he lifted his head. Severus searched her eyes and brushed two trembling fingers down her cheek. Hermione swore that his eyes were wet, though there was little else to prove that he perhaps had been crying the most silent of tears in those moments.

“Two damaged people do not one whole person make,” he said.

Hermione searched his eyes, feeling her own tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She refused to cry in front of him in that moment, she’d done too much of that already. Slowly, she nodded her head. “I still—” His finger pressed against her lip and she stopped her words.

“You cannot have any sort of sexual intercourse for 24 hours,” he said.

Her eyes were puzzled and she was thrown off-kilter by his comment. It had come from nowhere. A sourness blossomed in her stomach as she realized it was his way of ending their moment and effectively their discussion on feelings. She had no solid answers, but was beginning to believe more and more he was rejecting her. Hermione nodded her head numbly, blinking as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Severus sighed. He swiped his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. His hands cupped her face. “You cannot cry every time you think you’ve been rejected,” he said. “It’s childish.”

“But you—”

“Rest, Hermione, for my sake if not your own,” he said. “Your mind may never shut down but your body needs to recover.” When he stood from the bed she turned away. “I’m getting you a draught, stop pouting.”

Hermione felt confused. When he returned with a simple stoppered bottle she took it and hesitated only a moment before downing its contents. There was no sense in arguing with him, he would only insist she drink it anyhow, possibly threaten to force it down her throat, even if he had no intentions of following through on the threat. She could feel the draught’s effects immediately and her eyes grew heavy. She yawned and shook her head. Blinking sleepy eyes she tried to keep them open as she felt his arms draw around her, pulling her back to her pillow, and fussing with the blankets to tuck her in. Hermione shook her head once more, but her words were lost as the sleeping potion claimed her.

Her sleep had been a dreamless one and when her eyes blinked open she felt rested, more so than she had in any recent recollection. A good night’s sleep had been a precious commodity not often afforded to her. When she had been homeless, there was nary a night where sleep found her so easily, and before that time when her world built around her job and Ron were crumbling, she often worked through the night to forget her troubles, choosing pepper-up potions and coffee to keep from turning to other vices. Awaking from a calmed sleep was strange and yet wonderful and Hermione felt at ease with her body and her mind, even if it was just for that first moment of waking.

The pillow was warm and stuck to her cheek, rising slowly up and down. Hermione’s eyes shifted. She was not laying on her pillow. Her face rested against heated skin. The last thing she had recalled before succumbing to the effects of the potion was trying to tell him off for driving her mad. He had been putting her into bed. She had not remembered him crawling into bed with her, and certainly not without his shirt. Terrified to raise her head for fear that she would wake him, Hermione stayed still. She’d come to rest atop his bare chest somehow, part of her body curled up against his side with his arm draped around her. His fingers were curled around her arm as if he’d held her all through the night.

This was startling and simultaneously comforting. Sleeping atop Severus Snape, who was at the very least half naked, in her bed. The notion was impossible to comprehend. He did not cuddle, or so he’d told her before. He had rejected her, hadn’t he? Her mind was a whirling dervish once more. The pale pallor of his skin did look lovely, the smattering of dark curls that covered his chest looked inviting. Her hand was resting just across his ribs and she gently began to trace her fingertips through his chest hair, unable to help herself.

Waking to find herself in bed with the man was one thing. Waking to find herself sleeping atop him with him holding her as if it was their routine— a routine of lovers— was quite another. She eased her fingers around, relishing in the soft scratchiness of his chest hair. It was something she had never been able to do with Ron or Viktor. Ron had lacked the appropriate furriness and Viktor had been too ticklish. Hermione traced little patterns, first a star, then a heart, and after a few moments her idle stroking were tracing figures of ancient runes in his chest hair. Her mind was overclocked even while enjoying the simplest of pleasures.

“Are you awake or merely twitching in your sleep?” his voice was slow.

Hermione tilted her head up to get a better glimpse of his face. His eyes were closed. “What are you doing here?” she asked, though she didn’t lift her head from his chest.

“I was sleeping,” he said.

“Without your shirt?”

She’d expected a sigh, or at the very least that he would open his eyes. “I never wear a shirt to sleep except for the shirt that you are currently wearing, and even then I prefer to do without.”

“You slept here all night?” she asked, confused that she had woke in his arms. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact quite the opposite. But he’d rejected her when she’d confessed her feelings to him. It made no sense for him to have slept not only in her bed, but protectively cradling her to his body.

“And part of the morning,” he muttered.

There was something about Severus Snape in the morning that made her both frustrated and giddy. He seemed forthcoming with his answers, not hesitating as he usually did. She found this to be brilliant. But he seemed far less reserved with his sarcasm and his cheek, and that was annoying. She was having an emotional crisis trying to figure out why he’d done as he had and he was serving up early morning witcrackers. “I don’t understand.”

There was a heavy sigh. He opened his eyes, staring down his chest at her. “Hermione, either lay here and be quiet, or get up and go take a shower. I don’t care which, but I will not have you chattering on. I’ve only just woken up and haven’t built the constitution required to deal with your incessant over-analytical nonsense.”

“I’m sorry— but you— why are you in my bed?” she asked.

“Are you displeased with it?” his voice was stern, his gaze unyielding.

“No,” she said.

“Then please,” he sighed once more, giving the side of her a squeeze with his arm. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Is that how you talk to all your bedfellows or only the females?” The voice drew both their attentions to the doorway of Hermione’s bedroom. She all but bolted up from his chest, but his arm kept her down against him. “You’ve kept me waiting half an hour.” The blonde boy narrowed his eyes in disgust at Hermione before looking back to Severus.

She was taken aback. How in the world had the boy gotten into the house? She supposed that when he’d come for lessons the first time, or any number of times wherein he’d been to Spinner’s End, that he knew where the door was. Hermione had never recalled the door being locked. She wondered if it were warded magically, and Severus had enchanted it to recognize Nigel. Or perhaps the boy was simply a sneaky lock-pick. Perhaps he’d hopped the fence and let himself in through the glass door by the little patio. However he’d come to be in the house seemed irrelevant as he stood there with his hands on his hips glaring between she and Severus. It took a great deal of restraint for her not to act on her impulses, one of which was to throttle pillows at him until he disappeared from her sight.

Severus, who had not moved except to keep Hermione down atop him, looked at Nigel and held his gaze. “I had forgotten you’d requested a meeting this morning,” he said.

“Coffee and a walk round the shops is a meeting now is it?” the boy huffed.

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nigel there is no reason to be petulant,” he muttered. This reprimand, though far milder than anything Hermione had ever heard when he had taken to chiding her, seemed to silence the boy if only for a moment. But it was a moment that was long enough for Severus to shift up in the bed, pulling himself up to sitting. This dislodged Hermione from his chest, though she noted that he did not take his arm off her. “She was ill.”

“She looks really ill, Sevvy.” He snapped.

“You are not my boyfriend, Nigel.” Said Severus with a harsher tone than Hermione thought was really necessary until it was turned on her. “And she is not my girlfriend. I am not in a relationship with either of you and will not have you two bristling every time you stumble upon an encounter with the other, or I shall put you both out, is that understood?”

Nigel pouted but nodded his head. Hermione shook her head and pulled back from under his arm. “I’m going to shower,” she muttered.

Severus grabbed her wrist as she stood from the bed and captured her gaze with a piercing stare. “Hermione,” he said as if warning her.

“No, you made yourself perfectly clear. You’re not in a relationship with either of us. And you’re absolutely right. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said and snatched her hand back from him. She wasn’t fuming, she wasn’t crying, but she would not lie in her bed against him with the boy standing in the doorway. He’d been convoluted at his best trying to explain why she’d woken to find herself sleeping atop him, but it appeared it was nothing more than something he had felt like doing in the moment. And if he didn’t want a relationship then she wasn’t going to give him one. Resolved that their interactions would remain strictly in the workshop, Hermione pushed passed Nigel without apologizing for bumping him in the process, and slammed the bathroom door shut.

“She’s a right morning sniper, isn’t she?” Nigel asked, a smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Nigel.” Severus said with a glare.


	17. Upside Down Inside Out

“I am not being listed as Vixxxy.” Hermione pushed the page back into George’s hand.

“I don’t know that I can get it changed, Hermione.” George frowned.

“I don’t care, George. It’s bad enough I have to be listed at all!” she huffed.

“Hermione, you agreed to the convention and this a part of—”

Severus’ voice silenced George. “Ms. Granger is aware of that, Mr. Weasley. Her protest is not in her agreement but over what you’ve listed in the program.”

“I can speak for myself, Severus.” Hermione narrowed her eyes across the work table at him. He returned her gaze but remained quiet.

“Are you two going to be like this all night?” George asked, exchanging wary glances between them. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” They spat in unison.

It was far from the truth, but Hermione was not interested in the least in discussing it with George Weasley. Two days had passed since she’d been rushed from the workshop back to Spinner’s End with Flinge. She’d scribbled a note saying she’d been taken down with a particularly nasty cold and that she wasn’t fit to test anything. Whether or not Severus had gone in on his own she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. George hadn’t made mention of it when they’d arrived that evening and she was determined not ask. She’d spent two entire days avoiding him, which had been more difficult than she had imagined.

For someone who was never around to be noticed she seemed to pass him at almost every conceivable point in the house. Whether she was leaving and he was coming in, or when she was headed to and from the bathroom, he was there. They passed one another in the hallway, and in the kitchen. She refused to speak with him. He hadn’t tried to initiate conversation either, but Hermione had a feeling that these run-ins were not coincidental. She had been living in that house with him without ever truly encountering him for several days and suddenly she couldn’t escape him. There had been no signs of Nigel since he’d appeared in her doorway that morning either. If Severus was carrying on with the boy, he was doing so outside of the house.

She’d locked herself in the shower that morning for over an hour. She’d washed her hair three times because she was so frustrated. Doing as he pleased was one thing. Casually sluffing her off in front of the boy was another. It shouldn’t have bothered her. He had made no illusions about their lack of relationship, even if he had never come out and directly said the words. Hearing them as she had that morning had pushed her over the edge. What had been a blissful waking had transformed into a soured moment in the blink of an eye. Part of her blamed the boy. But a part of her couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had Nigel not shown up. Would she have been content to lie there in his arms, resting on his chest? It wasn’t as if they could have had sex, and it would have been the first real opportunity presented to them where they could be intimate without sexual pressure. Yet another part of her wondered what would have happened if he’d left Hermione in bed and gone to coffee with Nigel.

And perhaps he had. When she’d emerged from the shower that morning Severus was gone, at least from her bedroom, though she did not go poking about to see if he’d left the house. He had called it a meeting. The boy had clearly been under the impression that it was a casual date. She’d reprimanded herself for thinking so heavily on it. Hermione did not have the mental energy to waste on trying to figure out Severus’ relationship, or lack thereof, with Nigel when her own inveiglement with the man was undefinable. He’d whispered words to her before putting her to bed. Two damaged people do not one whole person make. Of all the things that had been said that night it was the thing that stuck in her mind the most. That phrase had even trumped his utterance about not loving anyone.

Her mind had turned over every possible intimation of those words. He clearly believed himself not to be a whole person, damaged and broken from his years serving two masters and making the sacrifices he had made. And it was obvious he deemed her not to be a full person, and though she loathed to admit it, she was damaged in her own right. Did he see Nigel as someone whole? An innocent who because he was not magical and had not suffered the torments of war was more suitable for such intimate things? But he’d reprimanded the boy as well, and had told her that night that he loved no one. He could have been lying but she suspected that he was incapable of love, not because he couldn’t actually love one of them or someone else entirely, but because he denied himself the ability. Everyone was capable of love, except those that were truly evil, and Severus was not evil. Misguided and a right pain in the arse, damaged like she was, but certainly not evil.

Every time she passed him she made a point not to make eye contact. It had been bad enough that she’d found her mind obsessing over him, she didn’t need to add fuel to the fire by trying to see what silent messages he would attempt to convey to her with his unreadable emotions and brooding looks. Hermione had known that she wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever. Work was going to start up eventually and she would be forced to face him. Determined to treat it like the very first night she’d started on the job, Hermione had been standoffish and cold. Unfortunately this had not gone unnoticed by George. She blamed it on still not being 100% after her illness, and then when he’d started in on the Joke Convention, she’d all but lost her cool.

“I’ll do what I can to get it changed, if it makes you feel better,” George offered. “Though to what I couldn’t begin to imagine,” he muttered.

“Something classy, please. I’m not a street-walking strumpet. This may be a sex show as far as you’re concerned, but I’d like to keep as much of my dignity as possible. Even if we will be using enchanted masks.” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and then walked over to the bed. Good to his word, George had a proper four-poster bed installed in the workshop just near the marble table. It was large and the mattress sank deep with her weight as she sat on the edge of it.

“I’ll give it a think,” he said and then looked at Severus. “No objections from you?”

Severus shook his head. Hermione rolled her eyes. Naturally he wouldn’t object. His name hadn’t been half so ridiculous. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes: Sexxxploration with The Serpent Master and Vixxxy. She’d nearly incinerated the itinerary when she’d read it. She waited for George to start them off for the evening. The sooner they started, the sooner they could finish, the sooner they could leave. She wanted nothing more than to be away from him. She was still frustrated and her emotions hadn’t begun to settle.

“Okay, well, like I said, I’ll try, Hermione. Now, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. There are some things I want to get tested specifically for the convention. We’ve got three show slots for demonstration on the main stage and I think for the Saturday afternoon slot I want to showcase the Wonder Water and another one or two of the bath products. Friday night needs to be something racy. Haven’t decided if we should use the Week of Whips and maybe get into some more of the fetish-geared products— I know, I know, what fetish-geared products, but that’s part of what I’m hoping to work through tonight. And I think I want to feature the Lover’s Picnic on Sunday.”

“The what?” Hermione asked.

George seemed to forget the quarrels they’d been having a moment previous as he leaped with glee over to the hovering shelf and pulled what appeared to be an ordinary picnic hamper down from it. Hermione knew better than to assume it was ordinary or that it would contain ordinary things. The name alone had her skin crawling. She and Severus were not lovers, he had made that perfectly clear. But she couldn’t deny that she was a bit eager to feel him again. Two full days without so much as a breath of hello between them and the prospect of feeling his touch, even if it was strictly for the purpose of work, had her on edge. She supposed a part of those feelings was also anxiety, he had said there might be discomfort on her first round of intercourse after having contracted Flinge. She’d done as much research as the tome had allowed, even going so far as to pester Ginny about it, saying that she was casually interested so as to not let on that she’d picked it up from Charlie.

It was a strange sensation. Knowing that the man she wanted, with whom she was currently and perpetually at odds, would be the first person to touch her after she’d been infected. She should have been nervous. The situation should have put her off entirely given how frustrated she was with him. But there was something about the fact that it would be him that put her mind at ease. Never in her life had she thought she would have contracted an SMI, and even if it had been a simple one with an even simpler fix, it was still an unsettling experience. She had blindly taken to working with Severus in the workshop, though she supposed George would have screened him, he had asked her as much when she’d first shown up with the flyer before shooting her down a dozen times and then finally caving in. It had never crossed her mind that cautions were something that she would have to be taking. Naturally she hadn’t thought about sleeping with anyone but Severus since their work had begun.

Hermione was torn. She desperately wanted him. She missed his touch, even though he was stingy with it. And she missed the way his glorious cock filled her. She missed his lips and the taste of his tongue. She had purposely not returned his shirt to him, though she’d left his pajama bottoms in the bathroom after her shower. It smelled of him. And although she hadn’t worn it, she’d taken to sleeping with it tucked just beside her pillow. She had taken to charming her bedroom door as it simply wouldn’t do to have him enter, without knocking as he so often did, and find her curled up with his favorite shirt like some demented ex-girlfriend incapable of moving on. It was the limbo of their situation that kept her mind churning. His rejections were not traditional; they were not finite or conclusive. It gave her no closure to work with and that was what kept her contemplating.

George drew her from her thoughts by calling her over to where he stood. “We won’t need the bed or the table for this one, as you might imagine, we’ll be working on the floor.” 

Hermione frowned. “The floor?”

“Just have a sit, Severus, you too,” George gestured for them to join him where he knelt in front of the picnic hamper. “It came with a few things, but I think I’m going to put that grape Fantasy Panty spray can in here as well…and a LustiPop or two.”

Hermione knelt down beside George and peered into the picnic hamper. She was determined not to look at Severus more than was necessary. If he’d been trying to catch her eye, she hadn’t noticed, though she doubted that he had. It actually seemed that he didn’t care one way or the other that they hadn’t spoken. It bothered her, but she couldn’t place way. A part of her wanted him to make the effort, but she knew based on his comment alone about following her to Tunis that he was not the type to go about apologizing or making gestures of the like. A part of her wondered if he was encountering her and purposely remaining silent just to see how long she could take it, and that enraged her. Her attention was once more caught up by George’s voice.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Hermione? You seem like you’re in space,” he waved his hand in front of her face and grinned. Hermione noted that although George was grinning, his bright blue eyes were concerned.

She sighed. “I’m fine, George. Honest. Just testy is all. I hate being sick, and I hate that it’s put us so far behind,” she said with the most exasperation she could muster. She hoped it was convincing. It did the trick well enough as she received a pat on the shoulder from George. “I am sorry,” she added and then leaned her head against the top of his shoulder. “I’ve just been out of sorts, you know what colds do to me.” She muttered.

George laughed. “Ron and Harry used to say you were a nightmare about studying when you’d come down with the sniffles,” he teased. “I can get some more heat in here if you think that will help,” he offered.

Hermione shook her head. “No, no, really. I’m alright, George. Now, tell me about this picnic thing…the sooner we get to testing it, the sooner we can figure out if it’s ready for the convention.”

“Right!” with renewed enthusiasm, George pulled a bottle from the picnic hamper. It was nothing special to behold. To Hermione it looked like an ordinary bottle of wine, stoppered with a cork. “So this,” he said handing the bottle to Severus. “Is Lusty Wine.”

“Lusty Wine?” Hermione asked with a frown.

George had hopped up, dashed over to his work station, and returned with his ledger and quill. “Fred’s notes say that it’s an aphrodisiacal wine, about 75% aphrodisiac and 25% wine, to help get a romantic couple in the mood. Safer than your average lust potion, and apparently strawberry flavored.”

Severus had set the bottle down on the floor of the workshop. He took the ledger from George, skimming it over. “What exactly makes it safer than your average lust potion, Mr. Weasley?”

George and Severus were quick to debate the formulaic properties of Fred’s notes. Hermione found herself eyeing the bottle with suspicion. She had never taken an aphrodisiac in her life, at least not one that had been extracted, concentrated, and formulated for those exact purposes. They were frowned upon in the magical world because of their potency; a person could administer one to an unsuspecting individual and said individual would find themselves uncontrollably attracted to the person who had given them the potion. She supposed that it wouldn’t hurt them, she was already sexually attracted to Severus— and to a degree he to her— even if at the moment they were not speaking with one another. She caught the tail end of their conversation.

“—untested, yes. But if he’s right, then it could put other such products out of business!” George’s face was red. Had they gotten into an argument while Hermione’s mind had been idling?

“It’s still not guaranteed to—”

“Bullocks, Severus. That formula is practically perfect. And if it’s targeting natural attraction for enhancement purposes, then it’s not even like your basic lust potion making it a dozen times safer and more marketable.” George tapped his finger hard on the ledger.

“How about we just drink it and see?” Hermione offered. “If you two are going to sit around bickering all day, I’m going to put my clothes back on.” She had kept her robes drawn around her up to that point. She was content to get dressed and call it a night if Severus and George wanted to go to blows over potion ingredients.

“Thank you, Hermione,” George said in triumph and picked up the bottle. “I suppose I ought to consider putting two goblets in here, but for now you can each just have a swig from the bottle.” He handed the bottle to Hermione first.

She tugged on the cork, surprised that it popped out so easily. Her nostrils were overwhelmed with the scent of strawberries. “This is potent,” she said bringing it to her lips. She closed her eyes, poured the bottle back and swallowed a large mouthful of the Lusty Wine. It was sweet and bitter and tart and tangy all at once. Her eyes scrunched and her lips puckered and she coughed. “Merlin that’s— ugh. It’s like fruit juice gone foul.” She stuck her tongue out of her mouth, but kept her eyes closed.

George had taken the bottle back from her and sniffed it. “It’s a little strong, but I think it’s alright.” He handed it to Severus. Hermione refused to open her eyes to watch him swallow the wine. She did, however, open her eyes and stare pointedly at the floor, waiting to feel the effects of the potion. Already her throat felt warm from swallowing it. Having never taken a lust potion, she wasn’t sure what to expect. The warming sensation of the aphrodisiacal chocolate in the bursting bath bubbles had seemed only to release her inhibitions when it came to making advances at Severus, and she wondered if this wine would do the same.

“Alright, well, I suppose we’ll see soon enough if it’s actually working. You two can’t seem to stand each other today,” George said.

“That’s not true!” Hermione protested. “I can’t stand him ever.” The moment she’d said it she clapped her hand over her mouth, blushing furiously. “Sorry,” she muttered. She wondered for a fleeting instant if the Lusty Wine had also been laced with Veritaserum.

George looked embarrassed, but also as if he were trying not to laugh. “Right,” he said and shook his head. He pulled out a tiny green cube from the basket. “Massage grass blanket,” he said with a grin.

“That looks like a green cube,” Hermione said.

Picking up the cube, George gave it a squeeze. Hermione marveled at the way it began to melt into itself and spread out across the floor. Despite having a full magical education and having been exposed to the fullest extent of magic for both the forces of light and dark during the war, there were still so many things that amazed her about the magical world in which she lived. Watching a green blob de-transfigure itself down into a large grassy blanket was such a thing. It reminded her of the first time she’d walked into a magically enchanted tent, discovering that it was far more spacious than the outside had let on. She reached her hand out cautiously, stroking her fingers over the grass. It felt like actual grass. The blanket was large enough for two people to comfortably lay across it in either direction.

“Feels like grass,” she said.

“I think Fred had the notion that you should be able to take a picnic with you wherever you go. It’s supposed to have a massaging effect but I imagine you’ll feel that as you have a bit of a play on it.” For a moment she had forgotten that she was meant to be discovering a sexually charged picnic hamper with Severus. “Off with your robes, then. And get comfy. I think we’ll give the Wicked Wildflower a try first.”

Hermione did as she was told, slipping out of her robe, before scooting over onto the grass blanket. She was kneeling with her back facing slightly toward George, keeping her head down as Severus slipped out of his robe and joined her, though he kept his distance.

“Blimey, Hermione!” George cried.

At once she blushed, knowing exactly what he was reacting to. She had never taken her robe fully off two evenings prior when she’d tested the Nifty Nipples. And she’d fallen ill and been swept from the workshop after that. Though most of the bruises and marks had begun to heal, they had reached the stage of grotesque yellowish brown. She bit her lower lip. There hadn’t been much thought put into hiding the marks. Charlie hadn’t seen them as her nightgown had never been pulled all the way off her body the night she’d laid with him. Severus had put them there so there had been no need to hide them from his eyes. She bowed and tried to think on how to handle the decision. Choosing to feign ignorance, she turned her head back over her shoulder and looked at George with a puzzled glance. “What?”

“Your shoulders! Bloody hell, Hermione, it looks like you were attacked by a savage beast!” He looked stricken. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to George to take that approach. “Oh, honestly, George,” she muttered. “They’re hickeys not battle wounds.”

“They’re— oh. Oh!” he sputtered. She tried not to smile as his face flushed a furious shade of red. “Merlin, ‘Mione…they look…” George blushed even harder if such a thing were possible.

“Just ignore them,” she huffed. She hadn’t anticipated him making quite such a fuss over them. She also hadn’t taken to lingering in the mirror to see just how hideous they looked in their yellow-browned state. If she closed her eyes just so, she could still picture the way his lips had sank into her, with his finger through that vibrating ring, teasing her until he spilled himself on her back. She forced the thought from her mind, it would do no good to dwell on such a thing while trying to focus on their work.

“Right.” George looked nervously at Severus, who said nothing. “So if you lie back, Hermione, I’m going to have Severus start with the Wicked Wildflower.”

“What’s it meant to do?” she asked as she shifted more fully onto the grassy blanket and eased herself down onto her back. It felt exactly like lying naked in a field, or at least how she imagined such a thing would feel as Hermione had never gone to relax in a field of grass in the buff. It was just a bit ticklish as she shifted her hips and eased her legs down so that she was flat. She rested her arms at her side and turned her head to George. She did not want to look Severus in the eye. She was on display, though that was nothing new for their line of work.

She watched as George drew up what looked like a white daisy from inside the picnic hamper. Only it wasn’t a daisy so much as a daisy head on an elongated red and white checkered stem. It almost looked like someone had folded the stem out of a picnic kerchief or blanket. George tugged on the stem and at once it broke away from the flower head, leaving only a little handle in its wake. The long checkered stem began to length, swiveling about around George’s hand until it split itself into four slender coils. Hermione’s eyes were wide as they began to snake their way down George’s hand, across the grass blanket and onto her body. She flinched and gasped as they wound themselves around her wrists and ankles, one coil at each, pulling her limbs apart from her body. She was stretched, but not uncomfortably, into an ‘X’ and the ends of checkered coils disappeared down into the blades of the grass blanket.

Hermione gave a sturdy tug on her new restraints, trying to free first her wrists and then her ankles. “Oh my goodness,” she whispered, feeling her full body blush. She’d just been bound to the ground. The dawning realization that this was her first bondage experience crept into her mind and she blushed harder. Severus had been bound during the work; he’d succumbed to various positions at the handiwork of the Sexy Silks. But she had not yet been restrained. This was a shocking feeling, and a great lot for her to absorb as she realized that this put her completely at Severus’ mercy. Despite trying to keep a handle on her feelings, there was a surge of pleasure that shot straight to her core. She imagined she would have felt it even if things hadn’t been so on edge with him. The notion of being restrained and letting him have his way with her made her giddy, though in her current predicament she loathed to admit it.

“Fred’s notes said that it’s meant to be a bit of an enchanted tickler,” he handed the daisy to Severus. “Start where you like, I suppose.”

Hermione froze hearing George’s words. Not even thinking about the enchanted bit, she could already feel her body squirming in agony over the notion of being tickled, even if it was by the flower rather than his fingers. Her mind flashed back to before he’d put her out. They’d been lying in her bed, his arm draped over her and he’d tickled her. The first time it had been his fingers idly brushing a ticklish spot on her tummy, but he’d done it again out of some attempt to make her laugh or to unbalance her, she hadn’t been sure. She despised being tickled. She wasn’t sure that she knew a single soul that enjoyed it. And then her mind jumped tracks. When they’d tested the whips the Wednesday Wonker, or whatever it had been called as she couldn’t properly remember, had delivered a series of ticklish feathers. She may not have remembered the name of the whip, but she did remember Severus’ reaction to that particular enchantment. He had seemed wildly ticklish. Perhaps that would come in handy, knowing that he too was susceptible to being tickled he would not push the product to its full-intended limit.

She drew in a trembling breath and closed her eyes. She was too nervous to stare at him and she didn’t trust herself to keep her eyes open and look off to the side. The first stroke of delicate flower petals had her squeaking as she hadn’t even noticed Severus leaning over her. Hermione’s eyes flew open and she gazed up at him. He was rested on his knees, leaning over her, the daisy in his hands. It felt like a fleeting kiss of feather petals, airy yet smooth and very ticklish as he had swept it up under her left arm. There was a languid stroke of his hand and the daisy-head tickle swept down her other arm and she shivered, biting her lower lip to keep from shouting out again. He lingered a moment, eyes on her torso, before sweeping the petals back and forth in her armpit.

Hermione thrashed about trying to pull her arm back to her body. She squealed unable to help herself as she struggled against the checkered restraints. A fit of giggles threatened to break forth from her chest and she tried in vain to twist away from him as the tickler roamed up over her breasts, across her chest and down into her left armpit. Her eyes grew wider still. She was jerking trying to flee the tickler, now under her left arm, but could still feel the sweep of the daisy petals under her right arm as if they’d never stopped. “Oh-no-no-no-stop!” she cried, giggles punctuating her words. “Please!” her upper body jolted and she shrieked a peel of unstoppable giggles.

Severus swept the daisy head down alongside her ribs and she began to jerk about almost violently against the grassy blanket, the blades underneath her back tickling her as well. Or perhaps it was an extenuation of the daisy’s enchantment. Her body was tingling with tickles as he swirled the flower around her navel and then down between her legs, stroking the flower between her thighs. Hermione’s shrill shrieks of laughter filled the workshop, her cheeks glowing red as she thrashed and tossed about, restrained at the ankles and wrists. “Merlin! Please! Please, Severus! Stop!” she cried, laughing so hard she could feel tears coming to her eyes.

There was something else; the little zips and zings of pleasure were dancing up and down her spine as the tickling grew more intense. It was like a dozen little flower-petal fingers wriggling all over her body in any place that he had touched her with the flower head. Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head as she squealed, the flowery tickler brushing across the bottom of her left foot. Her toes curled and she kicked hard, desperately trying to escape the sensation that was consuming her body. She was warm, her whole body heated from thrashing against her restraints, unable to chase the tickling sensation away from her skin. She felt it most keenly now against her right foot, her words utter gibberish as she pleaded with Severus to pull the flower back from her. She was begging for mercy, string after string of unintelligible words flying from her lips strangled by giggles.

And she was wet. Tickling was causing quite the friction between her thighs despite them being drawn apart from one another and she could feel his hand between her lips. She cried out, arching her back up off the grass as much as the checkered restraints would allow. Her muscles were still tensing, her body still twitching as the flower petal tickling continued. Two long fingers slipped into her and she was screaming. She shook with a sudden and unexpected climax, her body torn between the two sensations, unable to help herself as she writhed about, bucking wildly against the restraints and his fingers as they curled inside of her, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit.

Hermione was gasping for breath. She wasn’t sure if it qualified as the best orgasm she’d ever experienced, but it was by far the most intense simply because of the tickling. The insistent wriggling flower petals had ceased and she felt the slow tug of his fingers sliding back from her quivering core. She whimpered at the loss of contact, trying to curl her knees up to her chest to bring her body into a fetal position but she was still restrained. Her eyelids were fluttering and it took her a moment before she could draw her focus. Her eyes landed on him as he leaned back onto his legs, gazing down at her with a blank expression.

“Wow, Hermione,” George was grinning and she noticed him looming over her as well. “Ticklish much?”

She huffed. “If I wasn’t restrained I’d hex you.”

George laughed. “Take it easy,” he teased. “The next little goody in this hamper is something for Severus.”

This did not entice her in the least. She was cross with herself for enjoying the bizarrely pleasurable experience so thoroughly. Hermione had never once thought to associate tickling with arousal or pleasure. The fact that she had been so easily able to achieve climax with the enchanted novelty put her on edge. Was it because she was riled up from the Lusty Wine? Or were her pent-up frustrations of trying to avoid him the last two days coming to an explosive head in the form of an orgasm? The fact that he was the one tickling her, even if it had been by way of flower-petal toy, only made it worse. She’d convinced herself that she could suffer through the night, that she could push through the work and not give him a second thought. But she’d screamed his name just as easily as she had when he’d fucked her ruthlessly in his bed at Spinner’s End.

Furious with herself she growled and tugged her wrists up as hard as she could. “Is someone going to untie me?” she barked.

George snorted. But Severus moved to kneel over her. She turned her head to the side, refusing to look at him as he undid the checkered restraints around her arms. She half expected him to leave her to her own vices to untie her feet, but was surprised when he shifted down the length of the grass blanket and unbound her ankles. She caught his eye, unable to help herself, as she sat up, and her face filled with another blush. He was gazing at her with a mild curiosity, no doubt appraising her childish outbursts. She really needed to get a handle on her temper. She could easily understand why he had been so coarse when he’d been restrained to the bed when they had tested the paddles. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant, it was the humiliation of being helpless. Something that she had never wanted to experience, but in her time spent in the war, had come to know a great deal about. This thought paralyzed her mind for a moment as she thought about Severus might have experienced the same. She quickly pushed it from her mind, not wanting to apply empathy to the bastard kneeling across from her.

“Carrying on with our little romantic picnic,” George said. In his hand he held what looked like an ordinary pie tin, albeit small, with a single slice of oozing apple pie. “Glovely Pie,” he beamed. “Hermione,” he nodded at her. “I want you to sit behind Severus,” he instructed. “And, Severus, you lean back into her arms a bit.”

Already she didn’t like where it was going. At least for the moment she’d be situated behind him and wouldn’t have to try to hide her expressions. And she wouldn’t have to force herself to look away from his eyes. If he’d been wearing his robe but moments ago when he’d applied the tickler to her, she couldn’t recall but as he situated himself on the plush grass blanket and eased his body back into her arms, it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was naked. Even in the slight chill of the workshop, a fact that she had meant to address George about several times, his body radiated heat. His skin was warm as if intent on melting straight through her body on a beeline directly to her core. She closed her eyes and forced herself to think about Molly and Arthur Weasley, or the bat boogey hex that Ginny was so proud of, but despite her best distracting efforts could not stop feeling the delicious way his body felt situated back against hers. Hermione was intent on blaming the Lusty Wine.

George’s voice stirred her as he placed the little pie tin into her hands. “If I’ve read Fred’s notes right, and Merlin only knows, but if so then you’re meant to share this bit of edible goodness with Severus. He makes an important note about your hands his mouth and your mouth. Something to do with the enchantment and the way it’s meant to transfer sensation. It’s a masturbatory and fellatio geared product, so once its effects start to— to take effect— I’ll reckon you need to have a go with both.”

Hermione nodded her head, not trusting her own voice to have a flippant response. She was still pondering the chance that the Lusty Wine was laced with truth serum and didn’t want to find herself spouting off at the mouth any more than she had already done. The apple pie slice, despite the fact that the filling was oozing slightly out of the sides, did not look entirely unappealing. She decided he could be the Guinea pig and test it first. With fingers that trembled more than she cared to admit, she eased the pie out of its tin and held it in her hand. She tossed the tin aside and it rolled across the grass blanket and over to the floor near where George sat. For all intents and purposes it felt like an ordinary slice of pie, sticky and slightly warmed.

It was only slightly difficult to bring the pie up to his lips from where she sat with him leaned back in her lap. Doing so caused her body to press more firmly into his, her breasts now mashed against his back. But she would not deny that the warmth was pleasant on her front. She felt his lips press against the heel of her palm as he maneuvered his lips to take a bite of the pie. There was a groan and it startled her. Even more so because he seemed to delight in the taste of the treat somewhat emphatically. It made her nervous to think that if she too tasted it that her own inhibitions would sidle their way out the window and she’d be thrown once more into the lust-consumed inferno of passionate ecstasy with him. But she could hardly deny that she secretly hoped it would. There was something about him in the raw throes of pleasure that drove her wild, even if she had only experienced them in their time spent at Spinner’s End. And although she was meant to be keeping herself from such encounters, there was certainly nothing wrong if those sorts of moments were product-induced while they found themselves testing things in the workshop.

When Severus tilted his head to the side and turned back against her shoulder she drew in a sharp breath. The gesture was unexpected but hardly unwelcomed. His mouth was quick to find hers, the sticky remnants of a too sweetly spiced apple pie lingering on his lips. The kiss was as startling as the groan had been but all too quickly she found herself absorbed in it. The heat of the gooey apple pie filled her mouth though she was certain that she hadn’t eaten it. The pie itself had vanished from her hand but her hands felt full and sticky. Pulling back with a labored effort and heavily panted breath, Hermione stared first at his lips and then at her hands. Everything looked normal. Touching her fingers against her palm she bit her lower lip. “Oh my,” she whispered, her voice heady and deep with lust.

It was clear that the enchantment was mimicking the texture and essence of the pie, her hand now heated and sticky with the velvety innards of the apple pie slice. Her lips and mouth held a similar weight and she wondered if they felt the same, or would feel the same once wrapped around his cock. It made Hermione smile and shiver with a hint of undeniable delight. Closing her eyes she placed her hand firmly on his chest, dragging it down his skin. It felt as if she were trailing the sticky sweet topping of the pie along his flesh in a trail from his pectoral muscles directly down to his groin though there was no visual evidence or physical residual to prove that she had done so.

Severus arched into her touch as if her palm was melding into his skin and heating him through. She couldn’t help herself as she grinned. Hermione inched her fingers painstakingly slowly down to his crotch and made a deliberate process out of her curling them around the base of his cock. It took only a moment for his organ to twitch and stiffen against her ministrations; the heat and velvet ooze of the pie glided with ease over his growing erection. She almost squealed when he moaned, bucking his hips up into her hand. Whether or not the Lusty Wine was laced with Veritaserum or not remained to be discovered but she was certain it was doing its job as an enchanted aphrodisiac. Hermione curled her fingers around him firmly and stroked the length of his cock, now quite hard, until her pam curved up and around his tip.

“Merlin,” he hissed. The sound was glorious. Unrestrained, unfettered, and deliciously tantalizing to her ear, he was a man giving into his urges. She stroked him in earnest, leaning hard into his back as she worked her hand up and down his shaft, gliding along as if she were masturbating over him with the pie trapped between her fingers. Only there was nothing to be seen, save her hand and his shaft, and no sticky residue to be felt as she swirled her thumb around his leaking tip.

“Hermione, slide around front and give him a blow,” said George.

She was too lost in the heated sensation of the way her hand stroke him to be properly bothered by George’s casual command. That did not, however, stop her from slipping beneath his arm, sliding onto her hip and leaning her head down into his laps. Hermione licked her lips, daring to give him a wicked flicker of her eyes before lowering her head just over his shaft. If he’d seen the glimmer in her eyes she hadn’t noticed but in that moment she was drawn inexplicably to have his cock fill her mouth. His glorious, turgid, weighty cock stuffed as far as she could manage into her hot, tight little mouth. These thoughts should have paralyzed her with embarrassment but in that moment all she could see was his delicious erection glistening with precum.

She pressed her lips to the tip of his weeping shaft and swirled her tongue around it. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she moaned in the back of her throat. He tasted like warmed apple pie. There was a thickness to him as she slid her lips back over her teeth and sucked him slowly into her mouth. It felt as if he were covered in the oozing heated center of the pie, warm and velvety, as she slid her lips down nearly to the base of his cock. A violently shaking hand clutched at her hair and she heard him groan in the back of his throat. Hermione pulled her lips back up his length, twirling her tongue in circles around his pulsating shaft and was rewarded with another heady groan. She could hardly contain her excitement at hearing him fall apart even though in the recesses of her mind she knew she should not be so pleased by such a prospect.

Hermione was knelt over him, the soft blades of the grass blanket pressed firm against her knees as she continued to bob her head into his lap. The tug in her hair was firm but it did not stop her from continuing to slide her lips up and down his shaft. He smelled of the apple pie; it was as if one had been baking just beside them and her mouth was full of it and also him. It was an incredible sensation. Both of his hands were pressed suddenly and firmly at the side of her head, holding her in place and she took this as her cue to ease her tongue, though it did not prevent her from tickling the underside of his head in a spot where she knew him to be quite sensitive. Hot bursts of seed shuddered forth from his tip as Severus came, moaning and shuddering as he held her against his lap.

She had expected it to taste like apple pie, and although the smell of the pastry was still quite prevalent, the taste in her mouth was solely his, a taste she had come to enjoy the handful of times she’d been fortunate enough to savor it untainted by product. Hermione swallowed, feeling the sticky warmth of his release slide down her throat before she slowly lifted her head, panting and eyes fluttering. She was out of breath, her chest rising and falling just as hard as his and she found this to be astonishing.

Severus had released her head and was leaning back on his hands, using his arms to keep his body upright. He was still gasping for breath those his eyes were closed. She took the moment to study his body, though she should have turned away and fetched her robe. The angular planes of his torso that were covered with tautly draped stretches of pale skin made her weak in the knees. Her core was already burning from having serviced him. She was certain that even though it was only product testing that she derived a great deal of ecstatic pleasure from blowing him. It was something she couldn’t comprehend but chose in that moment not to question it.

“Well blimey I know it did something,” George grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for her robe. “Ask him,” she said.

Severus, who did not seem to be in the least bothered by his current state of undress, drew in several deep and steadying breaths before addressing George. “There is a transference charm in effect, designed to mimic the apple pie and the way it feels without leaving a residue or actually needing the physical substance of the stuff to do so.”

“And it feels good?” George asked, slightly puzzled.

“Sensational, Mr. Weasley.” Severus nodded and then eased himself up onto his knees. He made no move to find his robe and Hermione noted this to be peculiar. Either he was so exhausted from the experience that he had lost sight of the fact that he was still naked, or he was goading her. She chose to believe that he was still playing their wayward head game. Being with him in the workshop that evening had been difficult enough but if he was going to insist on playing games, she was going to have special order a thicker skin.

“What’s next?” she asked, hoping that she didn’t sound as anxious and annoyed as she was afraid she had. But she wanted to be done with testing. Not that she was in any particular rush to return back to Spinner’s End, which would only result in awkward silent run-ins as she settled in for the evening, but she wanted to be done with his delicious naked body. It would have been easier if he’d been unattractive, or perhaps unskilled. But Severus Snape was neither of those things. While she knew that he was not every witch’s fantasy, though his cock alone if witnessed in action might change a great number of minds regarding the matter, he was handsome in his own right. His figure was not carved nor were his muscles defined the way one might hope, but she knew him to be strong. His skin was terribly pale but it was comforting to the eyes. She shook her head trying not to think about just how she was justifying his attractiveness.

“Let’s see…” George was thumbing through the ledger which had appeared from nowhere in particular. “We’ve seen the Wicked Wildflower, and now the Glovely Pie…you’ve had the Lusty Wine— I think the only thing left is the Heavenly Honey,” he said with a shrug. “Of course, the blanket, which I still don’t think it’s meant to just lay there, but even so it’s a nice color.”

“Mr. Weasley, it replicates grass flawlessly. The fact that such a thing is so readily captured given your late brother’s penchant for charms and enchantments should be satisfactory,” Severus admonished. Hermione found that it was pleasant for once to hear someone being reprimanded that wasn’t her.

“Right.” George reached into the hamper. “I’m not so sure that I need to put the other things in here that I thought I was going to— at least not for marketing purposes. I may still sneak them in for the Sunday brunch demo slot at the convention. But so far I like this working order, it seems to build up nicely to a grand finale of sorts, which is exactly what this Heavenly Honey is made for.”

As he spoke he drew a jar from within the picnic hamper. It appeared, as many things had that evening, to be ordinary. A simple glass jar with a cloth top drawn over its opening and a fine piece of brown string holding the top in place. Slung to the side of the jar and looped through the string was an old wooden honey dipper. Hermione pursed her lips. “And what exactly is this Heavenly Honey meant to do?” she asked, her suspicions raised.

“It’s for you— well— both of you, but Fred’s notes make it seem targeted toward women, as in it’s going to work better if Severus is using it on you.”

“Right,” she sighed. Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course it was a product designed to be used on her. She hadn’t been able to really concentrate when he had been using the Wicked Wildflower on her because the tickling had disoriented her senses so severely. Or perhaps the Lusty Wine had helped with that, either way she’d found herself unable to stick to her guns of being reserved and restrained. She realized, with frustration, that she had hardly followed her self-imposed rule when it had come to working with the Glovely Pie either. While she’d vowed to keep away from him at home, she’d also told herself that she wouldn’t rise to his bait or tempt fate with him in the workshop either. They were there to do a job, as he had said numerous times before and she was not going to try to spark up anything between them while they worked. Even if she’d been so inclined to do so in the past, she’d vowed to herself that she would defy temptation and work through without incident. So far she’d been failing miserably.

“Shall I lie back then?” she asked, waiting for George’s response. But he only nodded, handing the honey jar to Severus. Hermione did not bring her eyes to meet his. She did not want to stare into the fathomless black depths of broodingly enigmatic and impossible to read emotions. She did not want to catch a glimpse of something only to have it flit away and further frustrate her.

“Hold up a minute, wait. It says here that it works best if you have a second go with the Lusty Wine,” George traced his finger over scribbles in the ledger. For all she knew it could have said works well with poo, given the atrocity that was his dead twin’s handwriting, but for the moment she chose to trust him.

With a heavily audible sigh, Hermione reached for the bottle, surprised to have Severus hand it to her with a nod. Not wishing to make an awkward situation worse, she nodded her thanks and took a long deep quaff straight from its opening. It shook through her soundly and suddenly, the warming in her belly and her loins striking her without warning. She blushed with a smile as she handed the bottle back to him, their fingers brushing for a moment. Hermione bit her lower lip and tried not to giggle as she watched a droplet of the wine dribble down the corner of his mouth and slide down his chin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, too tempted to lean forward and lick it from his face if she kept staring at him.

The moment passed and although she was now thoroughly heated and all but gushing between her legs, the dizzying ditziness of the moment had passed and she felt a modicum of control return over her inhibitions. It would not do to suddenly start romanticizing with Severus Snape just there in the workshop, even if it felt counterintuitive to resist the urges that were suddenly present inside of her, augmented exponentially by the liberal swallow of Lusty Wine she’d just consumed.

“Hermione, if you lie back, Severus, it looks like you just dip the wand into the honey, and drag it across her— it doesn’t really say where it just says one or two strokes will do…” George gestured at Severus, indicating the ledger. Hermione sighed and moved to lay on her back against the grass blanket. Whatever they were talking about, she didn’t care to hear. Yet again she found herself on her back for him, her body exposed to his eyes. But what did it matter? He’d seen every inch of her, as he’d so crassly stated— he’d sucked and fucked and touched every inch of her as well. That much was true, and while she was presently so perturbed with him that she could slap herself silly for wanting him, his touch was exquisite. Even when it was idle or so subtle she wasn’t sure she was really feeling it, like the way his fingers stroked through her hair, he felt sensational against her.

Her pleasant reverie was chased away as he knelt beside her, the now opened honey jar in one hand and the wand in the other. She kept her head turned to the side so that she could watch him without having to make eye contact. Hermione felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over her, slowly dipping the wand into the honey. There was a faint smell of sugary sweetness, much like the way one would expect honey to smell. And she shivered despite herself when he let the syrupy liquid drizzle and drip down from the wand onto her shoulder. With as slow sweeping motion of his hand, Severus drew the honey-coated wand across the length of her collarbone, coating her skin liberally with the sticky stuff from the jar.

Severus put the wand back into the honey jar and set off to the side of the grass blanket. “And just…” he nodded at Hermione’s body.

There was no way to prepare herself for the sensation that followed once George had nodded his head to encourage Severus to continue. She had thought that it would be simple. He would lick the honey across her skin, though the collarbone seemed a strange place to spread it, it would tingle or it would tickle, he’d have commentary on the taste and texture and that would be that. She couldn’t have been more wrong. As he lowered his lips she felt her body tense. There was something sensual about the way he gazed at her, through lids half-hooded with his lips pursed as if to taste her for the very first time. She closed her eyes and desperately fought back the image of the way he’d taken her so abruptly upon his kitchen countertop. The memory, though no older than a few weeks, felt as if it had happened just hours before they’d come to the workshop.

Severus’ lips pressed against her collarbone, his tongue sweeping slowly along the line of honey that coated her skin. Hermione shivered, unable to help herself as a tingle of pleasure sizzled through her body. His lips moved along her collarbone to the edge of her shoulder, his tongue dipping down to tickle the tender flesh of her armpit. Hot, wet kisses were mouthed along her arm, trailing languidly down the length of her appendage until he was suckling at the pulse of her wrist. Hermione curled her toes, feeling as though he were drawing her heartbeat out through her skin with his lips. He nipped her wrist and she squealed, but her squeal quickly grew into a deep and lusty groan as she felt his tongue lave against her skin once more. His silky hair dragged along over her arm as he kissed and mouthed his way back up her limb to where her shoulder joined her neck.

“Oh…” she moaned, his lips now assailing the tender flesh at the juncture of where her neck dipped into her collarbone. The hollow of her throat was tongued and she shivered once more, as if he could lick her skin away to directly expose the nerve to his delicious ministrations. There was a tender suckling and his heated breath against her skin and she was squirming beneath him, fingers restless as they pulled at the blades of the grass blanket. Hermione found her fingers suddenly inching up over his figure, pulling on his shoulders to bring him over her body and while a tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming to stop giving in to the temptations of the product, it was drowned out by the moans of her mouth as he trailed his lips up alongside her neck and started to kiss and caress the underside of her jaw.

Severus had brought one hand up to her head and was threading his fingers into her curls when she felt his lips suckle her earlobe into the heated cavern of his mouth. She moaned, her eyelids fluttering. Hermione braced one hand on his back, raking her nails up and down his skin as if encouraging him to suckle more of her. Her body was ablaze with pleasure, every stroke of his tongue, kiss of his lips, and brush of his warmed breath had her squirming in delight, desperately trying to feel more of him. He had not stopped to reapply the honey, though she could still smell its floral sweetness quite strongly as his lips descended the column of her neck and began to trace large lazy circles around her left breast.

Hermione arched her back up from the grass blanket, desperate to feel her nipple in the heat of his mouth. There were other sensations that she longed to feel, his fingers having left her hair and now circling the nipple of her right breast. “Severus,” she panted, her voice little more than a breathy whimper as she pressed her chest up against his lips.

Whether it was her cry of his name or simply an enchantment of the honey, his lips closed around her left nipple and suckled her firmly, flicking the pebbled tip with his tongue. She squealed, both hands now threaded in his hair, tugging his head closer to her chest. It was agony; a delicious agony the likes of which she had never felt as he eased his lips back from one breast and moved to the other. Every caress of his tongue sent a tingle shooting up her spine, every press of his lips made her skin burn with need. Hermione was rolling her hips beneath him, his body now aligned over hers as if he could penetrate her at any moment.

But instead his lips trailed down below her breasts, sweeping his tongue against the skin beneath her swells before gliding down in swooping circles around her navel. Severus dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel and she whimpered, feeling strangely excited as he tongued her belly button. But his attentions did not linger long, his lips ever moving in broad wet kisses further down the plane of her stomach until he was feathering kisses against her naked mound. Hermione cried when she felt his tongue slither between her legs, gliding the outer trek of her thigh and tracing the joint of her limb down around the curve of her flesh.

Severus’ hair was brushing against her sensitive bits as he pressed hot wet kisses against her inner thigh and she grabbed at his head, desperate to move his mouth to her core. She was dripping, and pulsing, and needed to feel his tongue and his glorious lips against her clit. Hermione whimpered when he denied her, his lips lingering a moment longer at the apex of her thigh before gliding back up over her mound and down to her right leg. It was torture and she was not certain she could take any more of it. “Severus, please!” she panted. It did not register to her at all how very wanton she sounded, begging him to lick her slit and suckle her clit. But so wildly possessed with need was she that she simply didn’t care.

The kiss was slow, an intimate gesture that pressed his lips fully against her core. He mouthed against her lips once, twice, and a third time, each stroke of his tongue tantalizing and teasing against her slit. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, her thighs clenching and squirming as he drew lazy wide circles around her nether region, all while refusing to press his velvety tongue to her clit. Hermione all but screamed her frustrations and for a moment she swore she heard him chuckle. Her chest was heaving and she was desperate to feel him, and she cried. “Please…oh please…just— aaah!” she shrieked feeling his tongue suddenly attacking her clit. It was a jolt of pleasure, an onslaught of pressure, and Hermione trembled and shook, her body quaking with spasms as he pulled his lips tightly around her swollen nub.

Ecstasy broke through her body like a wave crashing violently against the shore. Hermione’s nails raked down through his hair, and she heard him growl but she was too caught up in the pleasures of her sudden release to notice or care. His tongue and lips did not relent and she squirmed, practically thrashing as he tongued her slit and nipped her lips as she rode through her climax. Hermione was all but a puddle of fleshy goo melted back into the grass blanket when she felt his lips gliding up her body. Much more rapidly was he moving now, his lips barely brushing her breasts before they were devouring her mouth, his tongue slithering against hers before she could catch her breath.

She tasted herself on his tongue, and she moaned, her legs still trembling as she felt his body fully over top of her. The heat that radiated through her core was like a magnet, drawing his thick straining cock forward. Hermione whimpered, breaking their kiss when she felt his erection nudging hard against her core. Her eyes searched his as her hands scrambled to find purchase against his shoulder blades. He was going to fuck her, she needed him to fuck her. She didn’t care if that hadn’t been a part of the product’s intent. Whether it was the Lusty Wine or the Heavenly Honey that had them both so wound up, or the tension of refusing to so much as look at him over the last day, it all came boiling to a head as he kissed her once more, and pressed the weeping head of his cock at her entrance.

A harsh and pressurized blast of chilled water caused Hermione to scream. Surprised and now soaked and shivering, she pitched onto her side, unceremoniously taking Severus with her. They were sprawled in a tangle of uncomfortable limbs, both of their bodies now half off the grass blanket. She jerked her head upright to see dribbles of water dripping from George’s wand tip. “What in the literal fuck, George?” she panted.

“Sorry!” he cried. “You two were—” his face was beet red and he looked horrified. “That honey must have one hell of an aphrodisiac,” he said in a sheepish whisper. “I’ve been calling both your names…” he turned around. “Really, sorry,” he muttered. “But I wanted to get you to test the last thing in the basket before you spent yourselves,” he added.

Hermione huffed indignantly. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that she’d been so caught up in sexual pleasures with Severus Snape that she hadn’t heard George calling her name, or the fact that they’d been so heated with their sexual pursuits that George had literally had to hose them down. She sat up, surprised to see Severus looking cross. He was glaring at George and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was upset because the redhead had ruined their moment or because the lust-tainted product had overcome his pristine reserve and rigid control. Either way, the image of him looking furious while still sporting a raging hard-on was amusing and she had to close her eyes and bow her head to keep from laughing.

“Erm, if you’re both alright to keep going,” George hadn’t stopped blushing. “There’s one more little delight in this picnic hamper.” He tried to look very interested in the inside of the picnic hamper as he fished out a small box. Hermione was worked up. The titular experience she’d felt at the mercy of Severus’ tongue and lips had brought her through an orgasm but left her desperately craving more, and she’d nearly had it until George had blasted them apart with a burst of water from his wand tip.

She was waiting for Severus to speak, though what he would say she hadn’t the slightest idea. Obviously he was still hard and would be good to go, and although she’d been put off by the interruption, it wasn’t as if she’d instantly dried up because of it. The lusty haze that had doused her senses, however, had seemed to dissipate with the hosing and she found herself a bit more clear-minded. Her eyes looked Severus over. He had leaned up on his knees and was now facing George, his erection still hard but no longer raging. She bit her lower lip, not giving a damn if he would turn round and pluck it from her teeth.

“Here,” George said and handed Severus the box.

Severus frowned as he fiddled with the box lid, eventually opening it to reveal a singular foil pouch, much like the ones used in the Hogwarts Condom Assortment. “Another condom, Mr. Weasley?”

Hermione noted his voice was terse. She wondered if his frustrations were directed at the product or at being interrupted, or both. But she wasn’t given the chance to ruminate on such notions as George launched into a reading from the ledger.

“No picnic is complete without the ants, and you’ll love the way they come marching home with this novelty rubber.” He read.

She frowned, her brow furrowing just slightly. Picnics and pleasantries were one thing. Ants were quite another. There was nothing sexually intriguing about insects, regardless if they were marching, and she was suddenly not keen to find out exactly what the ambiguous description meant. But already Severus was tearing a notch into the foil pouch, sliding the seemingly harmless and rather ordinary rubber from its sleeve. It was a clear rubber in so far as she could tell and she watched him roll it with practiced ease down over his cock, leaving just a bit of room in the tip. The wizarding world was mostly ignorant to condoms as potions and spells often took the place of needing such a device. That did not stop Severus from seeming familiar with them as if he’d used them all his life. She chased the thought from her mind before it could traipse into dangerous territory involving her housemate and the twit boy from the sex shop.

Hermione frowned when Severus turned to face her, still leaning up on his knees. Her eyes were drawn to his cock, now leaning slightly to one side, but more so to the little black dots that appeared up and down its length. With a tentative stroke of her hand, she could feel virtually no difference between the dotted condom and his erection, which she supposed was a good thing. When he’d worn the Hogwarts house condoms he’d felt a bit like vinyl. With a sigh that she tried to suppress so as not to sound bored or irritated, she leaned back onto the grass blanket fully, brought her knees up into a tented position and parted her thighs.

“Finish the erm— the rest of the Lusty Wine, I don’t think it keeps after one use,” George said absently, thumbing through the ledger pages, quill in hand.

With an audible sigh, she sat up and nodded her head in the general direction of the nearly empty bottle. “Would you?” she asked and waited for Severus to hand it to her.

He presented her with the bottle. She refused to acknowledge the way his fingers lingered against hers as they passed the glass between their hands. And she certainly refused to acknowledge that she’d let her fingers rest there as his touch had lingered. Taking a heavy quaff of the Lusty Wine, she drank all but a swig and handed the bottle back to him. He finished the liquid and set the bottle aside. For all the world she wished she hadn’t drank the Lusty Wine again because already her body was pleading for him. She vaguely remembered George stating that the formula was designed to augment and enhance preexisting attraction, and she cursed herself for being so drawn to him.

Severus placed a firm hand on her hip. “Get up on your knees,” he said.

It was a command, but it was different somehow. She could no more refuse it than anything else she’d ever heard him utter, but he had not demanded it of her. This was strange, but she found herself doing exactly as he had said without question. At first she’d expected him to take her from behind, but when she realized he was sliding beneath her body she stared at him with a puzzle look upon her face. She caught his eyes as his hands guided her hips down over him, his own legs now tented upward to act like the backing of a chair for her to lean against.

There was a fathomless depth in his swirling black orbs. He rested flat on his back save for his legs, and she sank easily down onto his length, gasping as he hardened inside of her. “Why like this?” she asked, her voice husky and low.

“I like watching your breasts bounce,” he said.

Hermione gaped at him. He smirked at her. If George had heard any of their exchange he hadn’t uttered a word of commentary. She was half tempted to unseat herself from atop him but his hands held her firmly in place. Determined not to let him get the better of her, regardless of what twisted mind game he was playing, she rocked her hips slightly pulling up and settling down once more. It was impossible to deny how full he felt inside of her. It was also difficult to fight the effects of her augmented lust, knowing full well that once she found a rhythm it would be impossible to keep herself from enjoying the sex.

Severus rolled his hips beneath her and she shuddered. He felt exquisite, there was no way to deny it. Even when he was being cheeky, even when she was nervous, even when he didn’t, he felt like divinity incarnate. The grip of his hands eased on her hips as she began to bounce up and down astride him. At first Hermione tried her damnedest to keep the column of her back perfectly still to prevent her breasts from jiggling as they fucked, but the effort became tiresome and uncomfortable after just a few moments. Giving up, she let her head tilt back, her long hair currently unstrained, falling down her back. Her breasts bounced hard as she rode him then, and his subtle groan did not go unnoticed.

She was about to glance down at him, just to see if he was smirking or too caught up in the pleasure of watching her tits to be effected when she felt the strangest and rather unsettling sensation. Severus seemed to have felt it too as their rhythm was abruptly disrupted, his hands clinging tightly to her hips, stilling her in place atop him. “What was that?” she panted, already lacking breath from their engagement.

Their eyes met and he looked as puzzled as she felt. The normal grasp he held on his unrelenting control seemed to have vanished with the strange feeling that they had shared. Hermione frowned. Perhaps it had been her imagination but he seemed to have felt it as well. She was about to dismiss it entirely when she felt it again, this time practically squirming up from atop him. “What the hell?” she cried. Severus released her hips and allowed her down. She looked more than startled and he shared a similar look across her face.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, staring at them as if they’d both gone mad.

“It feels like…” Hermione shook her head, unwilling or unable to describe what she’d just felt.

“Feels like what, Hermione?”

“Ants,” Severus spat.

She turned her head to look at him, following his gaze down to where he was staring at his cock. Hermione shuddered, scrambling back off the grass blanket. A dozen or so tiny black dots were crawling up and down the novelty condom. She hadn’t been mistaken in thinking that she’d felt something crawling along his length, brushing the inside of her as she’d rode astride his erection. Hermione felt her stomach flipping over itself. “That’s revolting!” she cried.

“I don’t think they’re actual ants,” George blushed, scooting over to the edge of the blanket to have a closer look.

“Regardless, Weasley,” Severus said through gritted teeth. It was obvious he was trying to refrain from biting George’s head off. “Not exactly something that screams romantic.”

“Oh gods, ugh!” Hermione shuddered. Just watching them squirm up and down the condom made her skin crawl. “Why on earth would you think that was a good idea?” she shouted, her face red. One moment she’d been pleasantly shagging herself silly atop Severus Snape, a fact that she was none too pleased with for her own emotionally steeped reasons, but it had been pleasant. Right up until she’d felt the enchantment of the condom crawling against her vaginal walls.

“I didn’t say it was!” George protested, though his voice still contained a hint of sheepish embarrassment. “I can’t say it’s the right execution— bugs in your yoohoo and all…” he shook his head. “But the enchantment, once tinkered with, might be genius for other purposes.”

Hermione glared at George. She hadn’t noticed that Severus was glaring too. When they spoke in unison it startled her. “What are you, twelve?” they had said together.

She whipped her head over her shoulder to look at Severus as if disbelieving that they’d chosen the same turn of phrase to chastise George. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt her cheeks filling with blush. Quickly looking away, she sighed and then caught George’s eye. “Even so, George. A wriggling squirming condom…even with the best of marketing I don’t know that I’d fancy such a thing.”

He sighed. “Yeah, well, I suppose not, but I’m sure there are other ways to tinker with that enchantment.” He was once more nose down in his ledger. “I suppose the idea of having you two finish with that particular product is out of the question then?”

She was afraid to look back at Severus. Finishing with him was one thing, something that despite her better judgement she was more than willing to do. But she didn’t think she could do it with the buggy condom sprouting little crawling critters, even if they were only enchanted to mimic the movement of marching ants. She spoke before Severus had a chance to contradict George. “Is there something else we could test while he’s up? I’m all for being practical, but that’s a rubbish product as it is and I don’t see any need to prolong our exposure to it.”

“Not that goes with the lover’s picnic,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t have to go with the picnic hamper, George, just something else that we could make use of given the current circumstances,” she reminded him, hoping that he would find something that would enable her to finish shagging Severus. The voice in her mind was all but drowned, its protestations lost to her tightly wound core, which despite the antsy interruption, was still begging to be plundered by his turgid cock. “Maybe a different condom if you have any? Or something designed to— well I don’t know, something from the ‘for both’ bin maybe?”

She would not turn her eyes back to Severus. If he had protestations or suggestions she didn’t need to see his facial expressions to hear them. But as was his fashion, he remained quiet. Hermione didn’t know if she liked this or not. They hadn’t been at it terribly long, or perhaps they had, time often seemed to slip away from her in the workshop. They hadn’t stopped for a break, but there had been nights before where they’d worked straight through, so she really wasn’t sure how late it was getting to be. When George stood up and moved over to the purple bin she sighed silently. Her body tensed tremendously when she felt Severus’ hand upon her shoulder. It was a familiar touch, concerned but somehow comforting and she both hated and loved it at the same time. It was no wonder that he often told her she should be less familiar with him. Did he feel the way she felt in that moment whenever she laid her hand on him?

Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a steady breath, trying to calm her nerves. She was fully prepared to shrug her bare shoulder out from beneath his touch but couldn’t bring herself to do so. Perhaps he had experienced the same thing. So many times before when she had touched him she had expected him to push her hand away but he had instead let it linger. She was starting to glimpse the inner workings of his mind through her own experience being foisted upon her, even if she didn’t understand what it meant. George’s return to the grass blanket ended the moment and the subtle presence of his hand on her shoulder. It was a bittersweet moment.

“This should do the trick,” he said and handed Hermione a shimmering silver cloth. “InvisiDick,” he beamed.

Hermione stared at him blankly as if waiting for him to be serious. Then she snorted. “Merlin help us,” she muttered. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it meant to do?” she asked, her voice thick with annoyance. She was afraid she knew exactly what George was going to say. She forced herself to think of the idiotic product that had been foisted into her hand lest her mind start wondering over why he’d touched her just then. He had never been the one to initiate the awkward touches that had so often come between them. A caress of his fingers against her cheek or a press of those same digits against her lip to silence her, but never in their inveigled intimacies had it been him who had reached for her. Grabbing at her to stop her from storming off, he’d done that plenty. And settling into a touch once she’d forced her hands to some place on his body had occurred before too. But what had happened just a moment ago was new and she couldn’t wrap her head around it, especially given the way she’d been avoiding him.

Or perhaps therein was her answer. He was trying to get a rise out of her, yet again. Or maybe it was the truthish effects of the Lusty Wine or some derivative thereof. It was making her head spin. Perhaps he was being genuine or maybe it was because it pleased him to do so. Hermione forced her mind to a shutdown, which lasted all of three seconds before she was once again turning plausible theories over in her brain as to why he would lay such a comforting and well-intended gesture upon her. Thankfully George had begun to read from the ledger and immediately she forced her attentions to his every word, even if they were exactly as she had expected them to be.

“Simply wipe the cloth over your lover’s erection for an amusing bout of invisibility,” he read, tracing his finger in the ledger. “Looks like it has the properties of the cleansing serum we’ve been using only instead of cleansing it coats with invisibility.” George shrugged. “Why the hell not, give it a go, Hermione. And if he stays up, maybe it’ll be fun to watch you fuck the air.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just what I’ve always wanted,” she muttered and turned around. She hadn’t meant to draw her eyes directly to Severus, who was now sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. She noticed that while he was still somewhat hard that he no longer sported a fully raging erection. The offending ant-covered condom had vanished and she smirked just the slightest bit thinking that perhaps he’d wandlessly and wordlessly incinerated it while George had fetched the absurd cloth that she now held in her hand. Her eyes met his and lingered in his gaze for a moment. Something unspoken passed between them, though she refused to acknowledge it. She shifted over and knelt beside him on the grass blanket. “Here,” she said and handed him the cloth.

Their fingers brushed, skin lingering on skin just a second longer than it should have. She couldn’t be certain if it was him who lingered or her own hand, or perhaps they had both hesitated before drawing their hands away. But like all things that involved Severus, the moment was a fleeting ethereal wisp that was there and gone before she could blink. Hermione watched as he held the cloth in his palm and drew it down over his cock. A few quick tugs seemed to do the trick because when he pulled his hand back it revealed a horrifically curious sight. Seeing him with nothing between his legs was dreadfully off-putting not only because it was unpleasant but because it made her want to laugh.

Severus arched an eyebrow up onto his forehead and this made her want to laugh all the more. She could feel her lips pressing hard together to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. There was something ridiculously amusing about seeing him look for all intents and purposes to be a eunuch. Hermione tried not to think about how displeasing that would be to live life without sexual organs. But her thoughts drifted away from her and for a moment a feral grin crossed her lips, which she quickly disguised by biting her lower lip. How fitting it would be for the soppy twit from the sex shop to see his beloved instructor without his manhood. She licked her lips and then blushed terribly.

While she was certain that he wasn’t reading her mind, she knew in a moment that he must have followed her very expressive facial features because his look of curious intrigue narrowed into one of silent chastisement. She sighed. There were whole words spoken between them in the silent exchange that had taken all of two seconds and a subtle shift in eyebrows, but that did not deter Hermione in the least as she shifted her legs to climb over his lap. She frowned. “Where— how should I—”

It was his hand on her wrist that made her words falter. His fingers curled around her skin as if he were accustomed to doing so and she supposed with as often as he touched her that he was used to it. Again their eyes met, this time their faces were much closer together and for a moment she felt that all too familiar temptation to lean in and press her lips to his. She was intent on blaming the Lusty Wine for her sudden inability to fight her baser urges in regards to his person. She was both relieved and irritated when he spoke, halting any hope she might have had for kissing him.

“Here,” he said. Severus pulled her hand down to nudge against his erection. Hermione had to close her eyes. She could feel his cock pulsating against her palm as she curled her fingers around it, as if it were not currently invisible. She had never been one to feel something that she couldn’t see, she’d often chastised Harry Potter about helping him when he’d fiddled with his invisibility cloak. There was something about the sensory disorientation of the experience that set her nerves to a world of confusion. With her eyes closed she shifted her hips, surprised at how quickly he aided in lifting her body to align her core over his shaft.

There were no more wriggling crawling ant-condoms to dispel her from his cock and Hermione sank with a moaned ease down his length until he was buried fully up inside of her. He filled her. He had always filled her from the very first time he’d pressed his cock into her slick heated cavern. There was no denying he stretched her and pressed against every internal nerve ending that she had. It was even more impossible to deny how delicious it felt and how much she craved it. Who in their right mind would blame her for wanting him the way that she did? She exhaled sharply and unintentionally when he braced one hand against the small of her back, her eyes flying open to meet his. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes.

“Are you two alright?” George asked.

Hermione nodded her head, eyes never leaving Severus’.

“Fine, Mr. Weasley,” Severus grunted.

“Right, well, go on then,” he said.

Hermione eased her hips up and then settled them down, pulling her core up and down his length. Lips brushed hers and she gasped in surprise, but the sound was swallowed as his mouth engulfed hers, claiming her in a deep kiss. She couldn’t help herself. She gave in. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her hips began to rock heavily up and down in his lap. All the while he kept one hand braced against the small of her back, the other slithered its way between their bodies and began to caress her chest. It was madness. Never before in the workshop had he dared to be so forward or intimate with her. She could no more explain it than she could stop him. But she didn't want to stop him. This was different. It was not the brutal and violent sex that had shook through her core or the delicate instructional touches he’d used to teach her. This was something else.

Panting with a whimper she broke the kiss and gazed hard into his eyes. She felt his hips rolling up beneath her and she could feel her walls clenching against him though she was not quite so close to a climax. His hands were on her shoulders, at least one hand was, the other had slid from her back to the side of her hip and was gripping her firmly, bouncing her up and down. He wasn’t leaned back or staring at her breasts and she found his eyes to be searching hers. That was more unnerving than riding astride his invisible prick. But her mind was quickly giving way to the sensations of pleasure that were coursing through her body. Sex was wonderful, even when it was with someone that wasn’t him— or so her bout in Tunis with Charlie had proved— but even more so when it was with him. She could yell at herself later for it.

“It really does look like you’re bouncing on nothing,” said George, though his voice sounded far away. “Could you get off him for a minute? I’d like to see him have you from behind, just to see the angling better.”

Hermione groaned. And Severus chuckled as he stilled her hips and effectively lifted her from his cock. She gaped at him and then without thinking smacked him across the chest. Had they been two different people the gesture might have been misconstrued as playful or perhaps horribly violent. But she was Hermione Granger and he was Severus Snape and in that moment his amusement did not trump her frustrations and she’d forgotten herself. Both of his hand shot forth and grabbed her wrists, pinning them up over her head as he drew her upright onto her feet. “Severus!” she cried as she was spun around and roughly pushed over at her hips.

“You heard Mr. Weasley,” he snapped and then forced his hand between her cheeks, spreading her thighs.

If George thought it was anything other than the two of them doing as he’d asked, he didn’t speak. Hermione cried out when he thrust himself suddenly into her. One of his hands gripped her hip, keeping her bent forward, the other wrapped around her waist, his fingers dangling dangerously close with intent to her mound. “So help me— ooh!” she cried, being pulled upright against his chest. It was an impossible position but her surprise did not keep her from pondering over how he was managing to fuck her from behind with her spine upright as it was. It presented a new angle, one that she had never felt and it was difficult not to sob outright as he thrust his invisible erection upward into her.

“Merlin…” she heard George pant. “That’s— well that’s impressive.” She could tell from his tone that his face was as red as his hair.

But Hermione wasn’t given another moment to think on it before she felt him withdraw from her body entirely. Her lips were posed to protest but she squealed as he grabbed her and pulled her down onto the grass blanket, rolling her until she was on her back and he was hovering over her. Her eyes were wide, half in shock and half with rage as he situated his throbbing cock between her legs. She struggled beneath him for a moment but this only seemed to assist him in his mission to penetrate her once more. She moaned. Hermione raked her fingers down his back wishing for all the world that she had claws instead of nails. He hissed and she bucked her hips, which only caused him to slam into her harder.

They were practically feral. Fucking and growling, his lips assailing hers, nipping at her flesh. She in turn took to biting at his neck, nails digging as deep into his skin as she could manage. So carried away in their tussle were they that neither of them heard George clearing his throat several times. The icy blast of water, which hadn’t felt as cold the first time, only upended them somewhat but it was enough to knock her back from him as they’d managed to tumble into a position somewhat on their sides with her half atop him. She was panting as was he, but he seemed to compose himself first.

“Severus I think you ought to take a look at the formulaic notes of that Lusty Wine, it must be tainted,” George said in haste. He was silent, but was on his feet and draped in his robe before another word could be uttered. He’d snatched up George’s ledger and strode to the far side of the workshop near the wash basin. George leaned over Hermione and offered her his hand. She rolled her eyes and sighed but took it anyway, allowing herself to be pulled up until she was resting back on her knees. “Are you alright?” he asked, his eyebrows narrowed suspiciously.

“I’m fine, George,” she muttered, drawing her own robe around her figure.

“Are you sure, Hermione? I bloody well know it’s not the Lusty Wine. What the hell has gotten into you?” he whispered.

“Me?” she cried. “What do you mean what’s gotten into me?”

George rolled his eyes. “Look I know he gets under your skin and all, but honestly! I’ve never seen you act like this—”

“George, are you mad?” she barked, standing up in a huff.

He stood with her and tried not to look cowed at the way she fussed. “Hermione, don’t go flying off the handle, you were just ripping his backside up like he killed your Pygmy Puff and shredding his skin while shagging him was the only way you could see fit to make him pay.”

“Don’t be absurd!” she growled.

“I swear to Merlin if I didn’t know better I’d say you fancied him.”

“I do not fancy Severus Snape!” she spat rather loudly.

“Shall we have that put in writing, Miss Granger, in case any of the neighboring shops didn’t hear you shouting?” Severus had slipped up behind her and was standing but a breath back from her.

“Severus, don’t antagonize her,” George reprimanded. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her— or you— you’ve been a bit too— I don’t know— warm? Friendly? It’s weird,” he confessed.

Hermione snorted. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she threw her hands up in the air. “Are we done?” she asked.

“It would see so,” Severus said coolly.

“I wasn’t talking to you, you great big bat!” she spat.

“Hermione!” George gazed wide-eyed at her. “What on earth is the matter with you?”

“Nothing!” she cried and stalked toward the coat hook.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“For a bleeding walk!” she shouted. Hermione was furious. Her emotions were raging. Her mind was racing. She couldn’t seem to handle her own body or her brain in that moment and she wanted to be as far away from the both of them as possible. She tore a hole in her jumper as she flung it wildly over her head, cursing and muttering under her breath as she kicked hard into her trainers and stalked out of the workshop. Down through the shop, stairs two at a time, she almost ran until she burst through the door and found herself standing out in the cool air of the night. The street was mostly empty, the lone wizard who had been idling across the way having scurried into the darkness of a nearby alley when he’d seen her appear like a frazzled madwoman from within the shop.

Hermione tugged hard at the ends of hair. She glanced skyward, she squeezed her eyes shut and then forced herself to swallow the scream that was threatening to erupt from within her. She felt as if she were going to explode. She wanted to scream and cry and punch things. She’d never been a violent person, the war had taught her that, and although she’d managed to check most of those impulses with assured control over time she was slowly losing control on that facet of her personality as well. Surely one man was not meant to drive one person so utterly and blindly mad. It was chilly outside but not chilly enough to soothe the burning inferno inside of her. Without even realizing it she’d stalked off down the street, her feet carrying her faster than she ever could have imagined away from the front of George Weasley’s joke shop.

Her stomach turned in hard knots. She was revolted by her behavior. She’d taken to brutalizing him and in front of George no less, though like he’d once said to her, he was by no means a victim in that scenario. She had never attacked another human being who hadn’t first attacked her and it made her sick just to think on it. But hadn’t he attacked her? Perhaps not in so many words, at least not physically in the workshop, but the mental barrage had been an assault. It had penetrated her better judgement and knocked her senseless, sending her into a fight or flight response of epically unbalanced proportions. Her body had chosen to fight and in their sick twisted war of inexplicable emotions she’d used her sexuality and her own body as her weapon. She all but collapsed down into the cobblestone as she rounded the corner into Knockturn Alley.

Realizing quickly that she’d found herself in a less than savory part of town, Hermione tried to gather her wits about her but found that she could not. Severus Snape had upended her so thoroughly that all she longed to do was dissolve into the puddle in which she currently stood. She gazed down at her trainer and grimaced realizing she was standing in a puddle of a foul-smelling unidentifiable liquid. With a groan she drew her wand, cleansed her shoe and side-stepped the puddle. This brought her to stand in front of the door of Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. She shuddered. Just off to the side she noticed the staircase that seemed to descend from nowhere and against her better judgement climbed it until she was standing under the faded wooden sign that read 'The White Wyvern.' The noise echoing from inside led her to believe that it was a pub.

Pressing her hand against the doorknob she cursed feeling the metal heat and singe her palm. A dark laughter chuckled and she frantically stepped back, almost tumbling back down the stairs in the process as she drew her wand. The chuckle echoed again and this time Hermione saw that it was coming from the sign itself hanging over the tavern. “Sssilly little ssstrumpetsss don’t belong here,” the enchanted creature hissed. It looked a bit like an upright snake with wings, all white though faded with splinters.

“I’m not a silly strumpet,” she snapped and stowed her wand.

“Perhaps not a strumpet, though given your recent choice of companions it’s hard to say, but certainly silly,” said Severus. Hermione bit her tongue to keep from screaming as she rounded completely and crashed just into his chest. She hadn’t expected him to appear just behind her. It seemed logical that he would follow her out into the street and down away from the shop, if for nothing else to make himself look normal in front of George Weasley, further proving her to be doolally round the twist. She narrowed her eyes at him and made to shove past him but he stepped off to the right, effectively blocking her with his body. “Get out of my way, Severus,” she hissed.

The sign above her snickered with its elongated hissing sound. She drew her wand and rounded on the sign, prepared to blast the Wyvern clean off its board. “Hey!” she cried when Severus snatched up her wand.

“Unwise,” he cautioned. “It’s an enchanted tavern sign, Hermione, not a person, don’t go blasting about like a loose cannon lest you have a death wish this evening.”

Despite his arrogance, or his concern that she chose to interpret as such in that moment, she headed his warning. She snatched her wand back from him and stuffed it into the sleeve of her jumper. “Are you going to get out of my way?” she snapped, though her voice was far less hostile than it had been a moment ago.

“Are you calm enough to return to work?” he held her gaze hard.

“I ought to shove you down these steps,” she spat. “You’ve got George thinking—” his finger fell over her lips and she bit at him. But Severus was quick, pulling his hand back though he made no move to let her down the staircase. “Don’t keep doing that to me! I’m not your student, I’m not your pet, I’m not your anything!”

There was a heavy silence that fell between them buffeted by the dull din of the pub noises that could not fully penetrate the heavy wooden door. When a moment had passed he spoke, which surprised her. “Mr. Weasley is under the impressive that you are having an adverse reaction to the potion you’ve taken to help expedite your recovery from your cold,” he said tersely. “And that I am being my typical bastard self,” he added. “An aphrodisiac designed to enhance the attractions of two lovers can cause a dreadful reaction when the persons involved have a natural born hate toward one another,” he said, though she noted that it sounded more like a fabricated suggestion than a statement.

Hermione had to close her eyes to keep from unleashing herself on him. In that moment she was just as likely to start pounding her fists against his chest— though she knew he would stop that before she could get so much as one good whack in— as she was to break down sobbing against him. Neither of those options were appealing and so she kept her eyes closed trying to count her breaths until she was certain she would not blast him with her fists or her tears. When she opened her eyes she was met with his gaze. He had not moved but he seemed closer somehow. Perhaps it was a trick of the light or maybe the moon had shifted in the clouds, but his face seemed softer. It broke her and she hung her head.

“Please get out of my way,” she whispered. “I want to go and apologize to George and go—” She faltered. She wasn’t certain she could bring herself to say it much less actually go back there. She had been so hasty to have a place that she could call her own, even if it was under a shared roof with him that she loathed the idea of giving it up. It had been the first stable bed she’d had since she’d lost her flat. And it hadn’t seemed so taxing to put him out, something she could never have done to Molly Weasley despite the matriarch’s more than generous offer.

“Home?” he finished her sentence.

Hermione felt her mind flying apart. It was inconceivable and everything in her world was inside out and upside down. She closed her eyes and nodded dumbly. When she opened her eyes she noticed that he had stepped back. Not enough to let her fully by, but enough that if she wanted to pass by him, she could do so, though not without brushing his body in the process. She sighed. “You win,” she said with a heavy sob that eased from her chest.

“Win what?” he asked, eyes wide. It was the first time she could ever recall seeing genuine confusion on his face, though at the moment it looked a bit more like surprise. “Do tell me, Miss Granger, what is it that I’ve won?”

“Here we go again,” she muttered. “Miss Granger. Always Miss Granger when you’ve lost your nerve or you’re playing this head game or just wish to torment me or because it tickles you! My name is—”

“Hermione Jean Granger born 19 of September 1979 under a moon in Leo to parents Wendell and Monica Wilkins— nee Albert Carl and Emma Jane Granger prior to the modification of their memories to erase said daughter from their minds during the Second Great Wizarding War. Enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a first year student 1 of September 1991 at the age of 11, sorted into Gryffindor House where she earned the role of Prefect 1 of September 1995 and was marked to take the role of Head Girl 1 of September 1997 had she bothered to return for her seventh year of classes. Captured by Snatchers from the Forest of Dean 10 of April 1998 and imprisoned at Malfoy Manor wherein a relentless application of the Cruciatus Curse at the hand of known Death Eater Bellatrix LeStrange was administered. Yielding in no pertinent information, a Dark Arts dagger was used to permanently carve the words mudblood into the forearm and a secondary round of the Cruciatus Curse was administered until Hermione Jean Granger blacked out from inconceivable pain— I know your blasted name, Hermione!” he shouted.

Hermione was stricken dumb. It was the first time she could ever recall Severus raising his voice with words. Not only had his volume startled her but his succinct recitation of her life summed up in those sentences had shocked her to the core. She stood staring at him, eyes wide, mouth gaping, unable to do anything in that moment. Her heart was racing. It was frightening, having heard him, not because she was frightened by him or even the way he’d shouted at her, but it was what he had said. The familiarity with which he’d rattled off her details, as if between every spoken word there rested a thousand unspoken words that he knew about her. His mind somehow knew every detail there was to know about her life and that terrified her. The only facts that were relevant had been what he’d shouted— her age, her life as a student, and what she’d endured. It killed her inside.

She took a tremulous step back, then another, and another until her back was pressed against the grimy wall of the pub. He did not advance. He did not speak. Severus stood still like a statue, eyes never leaving hers. Hermione drew in a breath but was too startled to inhale it deeply. She couldn’t shake the chill that now raced down her spine. Biting her bottom lip from habit, she pressed her teeth so hard into her flesh that a blossom of warm copper burst into her mouth and she sobbed. Hermione sank down into her knees, drawing her arms around herself as her body shook. Two strong arms pulled her upright and at first she struggled but after only a moment she gave in, collapsing against his chest. “You will not do this here,” he said, his voice hard as if he hadn’t just shouted his lungs out at her.

Overcome with emotions that she could not explain, she allowed him to guide her down the stairs and back to the cobbles of the alley. When her trainers made contact with the stones she felt the trickles of rain starting in and she all but fell into his arms. A blur of sensations surrounded her. His cloak drawn around her, the rain on her head, the heat of his body, the chill of the night air, everything crashed down on her at once and she felt dizzy. And then her eyes went dark.

When she woke she jolted upright. Hermione searched frantically around the room, panic seizing her chest until her eyes settled on him. He was seated as he had been when she’d first woken from her exhaustion after contracting Flinge. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes trained on her face. She was in her bed in her room at Spinner’s End, though she noted that she still donned her jumper and joggers, everything that she’d worn when she’d stormed out of the workshop except for her trainers. Hermione closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked. “You had a panic attack and fainted,” he said with a casual shrug.

“Please don’t do that,” she muttered. “Don’t dismiss me.”

“I am not dismissing you, Hermione. I am being factual. It is more than apparent that our emotional entanglement has given you enough grief, I do not wish to further complicate it at this time.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes but then she snapped them open, staring hard at him. “You said our,” she said sharply.

Severus sighed. Slowly he stood from the chair. “Yes,” he said and came to stand beside her, though he did not move to sit down. He searched her eyes and held her gaze until he was certain she was not going to speak. Only then did he summon her desk chair over to the side of the bed and sink down into it. His eyes never left hers. “We have quite the problem,” he said, starting slowly.

“I love you and you don’t love anyone. You’re not in a relationship with anyone but we’ve found ourselves in this inadvertent relationship,” she said, realizing just how hot her voice sounded as the words spat from her lips.

“You don’t fancy me,” he said with a sneer.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “I’d smother you right now if I thought that were an option.”

“As if you aren’t already,” he muttered.

“With a pillow, you arse!” she snapped. “I’d smother you with a bloody pillow!”

“Be my guest,” he said with a bit of a ghoulish smirk. “Put one if not both of us out of our misery.”

Hermione shook her head, a mirthful laugh leaving her lips. “You don’t get out so easily,” she muttered.

“I’m all too aware,” he said and then crossed his arms over his chest.

Silence fell between them. She was tucked carefully beneath her duvet, no doubt his doing, as her last conscious memory had been falling as a sobbing wreck into his arms outside the pub in Knockturn Alley. And she hadn’t even been able to pop inside for a pint in which to drown her troubles. Hermione had never been one for the drink, finding that all too often a simple glass of wine disoriented her, but when she’d stormed out of the workshop she would have downed a Hemmingway tower of whiskey if it meant being rid of him in that moment. But now, sometime later though she had no idea how long later as she was rubbish with keeping time and hadn’t the foggiest idea for how long she’d been unconscious, all she longed for was the comfort she knew that he could provide. It was quite the contradiction.

“You can’t—” she began but was cut off.

“I cannot give you what you want.” He said.

She shook her head. “You can’t know that. Especially since I don’t even know what I want.” This seemed to sit uneasily with him but he did not make to protest it. Hermione pressed her advantage. “I know what I don’t want,” she said cautiously. “I don’t want these head games. And I know— before you start in on that— I’m no victim or innocent, but I don’t wish to play them anymore. It’s too much,” she confessed. Though once a puzzle and a challenge to crack the ridiculous games they’d insisted on playing they now served only to plague her mind and question what few shreds of remaining sanity she had.

Severus said nothing. He leaned slightly forward in the chair, resting his elbows atop his knees. This brought him closer to her but not close enough to touch her. She wasn’t so bold in that moment as to lean up fully and place her hand on him. The last time she had done so, he’d leaned against her shoulder in silence for an hour crying his silent tears. She hadn’t been able to prove that he’d cried that night, but it had been something of the like. And it had resulted in their current predicament. Or it hadn’t. She no longer knew up from down left from right or front from back as far as he was concerned. She exhaled slowly and mustered up her Gryffindor courage.

“Whatever reasons you keep for using my surname are your own,” she said and then quickly continued on before he could address her on the matter. “Call me what you like in the workshop, I’d expect no different there because of how you address George, but when we’re away from there—” she faltered for only a moment but quickly regained her words. “When where’ here— here at home in your house— regardless in what capacity— friends, not friends, lovers, enemies— you will address me as Hermione.” She swallowed hard. “Am I being clear?”

“It is not so simple—”

“Damnit, Severus!” she shouted and then quickly cursed herself for raising her voice. “Sorry,” she muttered. She gazed hard into his eyes. “It is simple. It’s really quite simple. Hermione. Her-mi-o-nee,” she said, stretching out the syllables of her name. “Merlin, Viktor Krum didn’t have this much trouble with it and it was his second language,” she said with a huff. For a moment she thought she saw the fourth cousin of a smirk playing at his lips but she dismissed it. Despite her own self-mocking reference she was being serious. “Hermione. Say it.”

Severus glared at her.

“Severus,” she warned and then leaned up until she was perched up on her knees teetering on the edge of her mattress, hovering just a few inches in front of his face. “Say. My. Name.” she punctuated each word with a solitary prod of her finger against his chest.

“Don’t be asinine,” he muttered and then with an effortless push of his hand against her shoulder sent her toppling backward into her mattress. She cried out in surprise and threw her arms out, which caused him to roll his eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic,” he added with a sigh.

“Don’t be an ass,” she quipped. Hermione righted herself and then situated herself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the edge brushing his. She tugged quickly at her jumper, grumbling when it got stuck as she pulled it up over her head.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

Hermione flung the jumper from her body. She glared hard at him, wearing only her bra and trainers. “Keep your pants on, Severus, you’ve seen it all before,” she said and then thrust her arm out in front of him. She lowered her limb across his lap and he flinched. Hermione braced her hand on his leg to keep him from pushing her back though if he had any intention of doing he did not follow through with such actions. She closed her eyes, drew in a shaky breath and muttered. Her skin began to shimmer and the pale creamy complexion of her right arm dissolved, revealing the garish red markings that were forever carved into her skin.

Trembling fingers took his hand and pulled it over her arm. At first he tugged his arm back but she did not relent in pulling on his hand until his fingers covered the word. She grabbed his other hand and brought it to her neck, cupping his palm around her throat. She wondered for a moment if he’d ever seen the scar across her neck where Bellatrix LeStrange had nearly slit her throat with her twisted silver knife. It was a scar, much like the words on her arm and the tattoo on her arse, that was hidden at all times by a glamour. She said nothing but when she was sure he would not release his hands from where she had placed them, Hermione drew back her hands. Again her fingers shook as she drew them first to his collar, undoing the buttons at his throat and then to his left arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his forearm.

Though he had not undone his own glamour she knew exactly where to place her hand, one just over the invisible dark mark and the other over the puncture wounds on his throat. He flinched at her touch at first but she did not pull away. Hermione’s eyes stared hard into his, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Two damaged people do not one whole person make,” she whispered. “I know that,” she added. “But—”

“But what?” he whispered. Hermione closed her eyes but his words forced them open. “But what, Hermione?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. She did not look away from him in that moment. She was frightened. She was uncertain. She didn’t know what she felt, only that she felt less uncertain with him.

There was a stillness in the air. A quiet that permeated her mind and her heart and it was something she had never experienced before. The utterance of his spell was so soft that church mice might have mistaken it for the wind but she felt his skin shift subtly beneath her palms. His glamour was gone. Tears welled up in her eyes but she forced herself to keep them from falling. She blinked through them, not letting her gaze waver from his. When she could hold back the water in her eyes no longer, she sniffled slightly before speaking. “I feel for you,” she whispered.

She would not taint the moment by saying she loved him. She wasn’t certain she knew what love was or how to love or that what she had thought was love was actually what she felt for him. How could anyone who had been through what she had been through love another human being? She didn’t love herself and she knew that attempting to love another without loving one’s self was a pretty painted lie at best. But she did know that she felt for him. Even if she couldn’t articulate all of those emotions, even if they drew her to him inexplicably while simultaneously pushing her away from him. She had feelings for him.

“I do not need you to feel for me,” he whispered. She felt his hand slide back from her arm but she squeezed her grip on his forearm and it held his hand at bay. “Hermione—”

“No,” she whispered. “Not pity, Severus, not that kind of feel,” she could feel the tears leaking down her cheeks though she did her best to keep them from her voice. “I have feelings for you. I can’t say I love you— you refuse to be loved and to love— and I’m not even sure I’m capable of love— but I feel things for you— with you— when I’m with you.” It was the least articulate she could ever recall being. Mentally she cursed her mind for not organizing her words before speaking, she hated sounding like a jibbering idiot. “I wish that I could explain it better, but it’s not so simple.”

The half-hearted scoff that left his lips amused her but in a sad way. When he released his hands from her throat and her arm, she did not make to keep him there, though she did not pull her own hands away from where she covered his scars. When Severus swept his hand up the sides of her face and into her hair her breath caught in her throat. He pulled her hair back from her face, raking his fingers through her unruly curls for a moment before pulling back from her entirely. Doing so pulled his throat back from her hand and she eased her arm down, letting both hands now rest over his left forearm. She trembled when he placed his hands over hers, feeling her chest tighten when he lifted her hands from his arms.

Severus clutched her hands together, both of her smaller ones fitting into just one of his, but he encased her hands with both of his palms. He remained in her desk chair and she perched on the edge of the bed. There were words to be had, more things to be said, though she could not bring herself to say them. When a considerable amount of time had passed and she’d stifled more than a yawn or two, Hermione flexed her fingers in his palms, which caused him to immediately release her hands. She looked into his eyes, though she hadn’t really stopped staring into them from the moment she’d touched him, and the tiniest of smiles crossed her lips. He looked as he always did, pensive and stern, aloof and calculating, but there was something more even if it was there only just so. She saw the tiniest hint of vulnerability in him; the humanity of a scared and scarred individual that she all too often wore on her sleeve. It made her heart swell and without thinking she flung herself forward and hugged him tight.

The gesture had caught him off guard and practically knocked the wind out of him. With a great huffed exhale, Severus collapsed back into the chair with the added weight of her arms now flung around his figure. He sat motionless for several moments before prying her back from him. She frowned but he shook his head. “That chair is not suited for that,” he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Then bloody stand up,” she muttered and stood upright. She waited to see if he would stand. When he did she waited a moment longer before closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms firmly around him. Embracing Severus Snape was something that felt entirely too good to be true. She bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing when he slowly drew his arms around her figure and rested them against the small of her back. She had been held in his arms before, she’d woken in his arms, but this was different. This was not just an embrace, it was something more complex and yet far simpler. This was a hug.

It tickled her heart to think on it and before she could help herself she was giggling against his chest. When he tensed at her chuckling, she exhaled deeply trying to chase the laughter from her chest. “Sorry,” she whispered though she couldn’t help but grin. In that moment she was particularly glad that her face was hidden against his dark shirt.

Severus pulled her back and for a moment appeared to search her eyes. “This does not change anything,” he said.

Hermione shook her head and again rolled her eyes. “This changes everything, even if you can’t see it that way. Or won’t see it that way,” she said. She leaned her forehead forward and let it rest against his chest. There was silence between them. She noted the way he held her back just slightly, arms still around her but not clutching to her as they had been a moment ago. Whether he was trying to distance her intentionally or because he was now uncertain of himself she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was right about it changing things.

“Severus,” she whispered after another long indeterminate silence.

“What?” he asked, waiting a full minute before answering her.

“Tonight was awful,” she said against the fabric of his shirt.

“Indeed,” he said.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Her words had him pushing her back from his arms. “I am sorry, I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” he said and then pushed her gently back toward her bed. When she didn’t budge he pushed her more firmly until she yielded beneath his touch and sank back down until she was once more sitting on the mattress. “I don’t want to hear what you’re sorry for or what you think you’re sorry for,” he admitted. “It’s tasking and tiresome and often unnecessary.”

“But I feel—”

When he sat down beside her she shut her mouth. “You feel a lot of things, Hermione.” He said. Severus sat with his outer thigh pressed against her outer thigh but otherwise did not touch her. It was strange but not unpleasant. A long silence followed wherein they sat side by side, legs touching while she chewed over what he had said and exactly how he had said it. His words stirred her attention. “You should apologize to Mr. Weasley tomorrow evening,” he said and then turned his head to the side to gaze at her. She noted the wariness in his eyes. “I made an excuse, but an apology would not go amiss.”

She wanted to be angry or at the very least flippant with him but she knew he was right. Hermione nodded her head, slowly at first, but then more assuredly. “I don’t like falling apart like that,” she confessed.

“I imagine not.” Severus did not turn away from him but rather twisted his torso to stare at her more directly. She in turn shifted her body, bringing their knees together. She resisted the urge to place her hands on his lap or to lean in and rest her head against his shoulder. It was a difficult temptation. “What?” he asked her when he noticed the way she had begun fidgeting with her fingers.

“I’m sorry—” his piercing glare silenced her words on her tongue. “Right,” she tried again. “It’s just— the other morning— how did he—” Hermione tripped over her words. “Gods, I know I shouldn’t be obsessed but I am and I can hardly help myself, though I think if you could get inside my head you’d understand it, even though I don’t and I live inside my thoughts half the time.”

“Seldom do we fully understand our own thoughts, Hermione,” he said.

This struck her as strange but it did not go unnoted that it was a deflection. Hermione realized, however, that she had not fully asked her question. Pausing to gather her words first in her mind and then in her mouth before speaking, she looked him squarely in the eye and nodded her head. “How did you meet him?” she asked. She knew it was a gamble. She knew that it was likely to set him off and after all the progress, or what she presumed to be progress, they had just made it was likely to ruin the whole thing. But she couldn’t help herself. “I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help it.”

“Indeed it is not,” he said. Severus did not make to move back from her nor did he break her gaze. This boded well as far as Hermione could discern though it was several more long minutes in painstaking silence before he spoke his vague answer. “In the same shop you did.”

Hermione wished for all the world that she had thought to be more specific. She had wanted to know when he’d met the boy, what he’d been doing in the shop, and why he’d plucked up with the fellow in the first place. She knew those questions were definitely none of her business and asking him to elaborate and share such details was likely to get her a scowl and a reprimand. “But you don’t love him,” she said. It was a questionable statement. She’d done the best she could to make her voice sound sure as if it was a fact and not a wavering question that had left her lips.

Silence followed. Hermione’s heart dropped into her stomach and her stomach fell down to her toes. Had he lied? Did he love Nigel? Had he only been trying to prevent the messy aftermath of her broken heart by saying that he loved no one? She had asked the question before, the question of Severus loving the blonde boy. Now it seemed to haunt her, her mind frantically attempting to recollect anything that would have given her cause to doubt his statement on the matter from the first time. When he spoke she hung on his every word, listening with every fiber of her being.

“Nigel is the closest thing I have allowed myself to have in regards to what you label as love.” It was a simple statement, one that begged for further explanation. “I do not love,” he said. Those words she’d heard before. “But I do have a fondness for him.”

Hermione felt a tremendous ache in her heart though she supposed it was ridiculous to feel such a thing. She had only recently entangled herself in his life, though with her preexisting knowledge and relationship with the man it felt like far longer. It felt like decades. She hadn’t been smitten with him when she was under his tutelage that honor had only ever once befallen a professor, and regrettably it had been the pompous ass Gilderoy Lockhart. She hadn’t even thought about him once he’d been exonerated. Most of the days after Voldemort had been vanquished had been a blur. If truth be told most of the days leading up to his vanquishing had been an even bigger blur. About the time she’d been captured in the Forest of Dean with Ron and Harry was about the time her memory refused to cooperate. But she knew that even if her memory had been crystalline that it would find no such longings for the man there.

These reconciled notions of how recently she’d insinuated herself into his life did nothing to quell the pain she felt for not being the one for which he was fond. About as much must have been printed on her face because he was shaking his head with a most audible sigh. “What?” she asked. “You answered my question.” She watched the diehard habit of his fingers clutching and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was something that she herself had mimicked not so long ago but hadn’t seen him do in ages, perhaps not since before he’d become their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in sixth year. She marveled at this small wonder, her eyes lingering on his lips as he spoke.

“You are something entirely different, Hermione,” he started and then seemed to think better of it. “I have history with you,” he added. “Whether you like it or not, it is a fact that cannot be so easily overlooked.” To what in particular he was referring she couldn’t be sure, and perhaps he simply meant being her professor when she was a student at Hogwarts, but either way it seemed to register with him enough for him to continue along in his forthcoming mood. “I will not deny what you and I both already seem to know from first-hand experience,” he gestured between them. “I’ve said that before. But if you wish me to be honest, and I am certain you do…” here he paused but only to draw in a breath. “You are not someone that I ever would have chosen for a bedfellow. You are not someone with whom I would readily or willingly find myself coupling. You are not someone with whom I would have thought that I might someday have a fondness for.”

Hermione looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Severus seemed to sense this. “You are, however, someone who is going to have to grow a thicker skin. Your bloody salt bath is going to ruin every blessed stitch of clothing in this house otherwise,” he said rather sternly. This seemed to snap her from her need to cry but he quickly followed it with more words which kept her head spinning. “That said— things have changed, whether I want them to or not. You are here. And do not mistake me— this is not a case of ‘whichever witch or wizard it could have been’,” he paused and gazed deep into her eyes. “I am not so foolish as to take on a mess of this proportion with just anyone.” Again there was a pause. “It is because of my pre-existing history with you that I let myself falter.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, quick to question. Hermione’s head was once more swimming and she needed answers.

Severus sighed and for the first time since she’d found herself at his door that night dreadfully afraid that without proper knowledge of a man’s tongue between her legs that she would get the sack, Hermione saw honest confusion in his eyes. “Hermione, contrary to your belief, I don’t have everything calculated and planned out to the letter. I am only a man, a fact that I am certain I have mentioned before at the very least in regards to my physical restraint when it comes to you.” He blinked several times before continuing. “I am a calculating person and I do not take risks unless I am mostly certain of the outcome, but I am not perfect, far from it. I am flawed and I make mistakes. I ask myself a dozen times a day if bringing you into this house was a mistake.”

“And?” Hermione was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Often the answer is yes,” he said simply. “But it is also often no.”

“Severus—”

He shook his head. “I cannot be any clearer, Hermione. That is the truth. I never should have brought you in but at the same time I do not regret doing so and certain things have arisen because of my actions for both the better and the worse.”

For Hermione he might as well have been speaking in Ancient Runes. It made no sense whatsoever but he seemed to take solace in his confession. It was her turn to sigh. “I still don’t understand what you mean when you say our history made you falter,” she said. She supposed that she could follow his fractured logic about his chances and mistakes, even if she was a bit insulted by his phrasing of the whole ordeal.

Severus pursed his lips. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“To you, perhaps, but I’m not omniscient,” she muttered.

“Despite the working conditions which had been constructed for us at Weasley’s, I imagined that having you in the house would be only slightly different from cohabitating with you at Hogwarts. Though the castle was enormous and populated with an extra thousand individuals, I did not see avoiding you while here to be the issue.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she stared at him in disbelief. “Are you joking?” she said. When he shook his head she let her mouth hang agape. Had he seriously thought that taking her in under his roof in a house that hadn’t even started out with a spare bedroom for her to sleep in was going to be anything like living in a boarding school that took up residence in a castle the size of London with grounds that put the Pembrokeshire Coast to shame? Had she not been so flabbergasted at his statement she would have laughed.

Her look of astonishment prompted his words. “If you recall I was rarely about in the house save for when I wanted to be seen,” he said.

This caused her jaw to drop further open. “Damnit,” she hissed. “I knew you were making yourself purposefully scarce—” she froze mid-sentence and then scowled. “And have been making yourself purposefully present ever since I stormed out of my bed to the shower that morning Nigel saw us together.”

Severus allowed the ghost of a smirk to cross his lips. “I did tell you that I—”

“—am very good at not being noticed or detected when you do not wish to be,” she said tersely.

Severus snorted. “Don’t be cross, it’s not worth having a row over. You were fussed and I was giving you every opportunity to confront me on the matter. But in a surprising move on your behalf you chose silence,” he shrugged as if they were discussing the simple errors in a chess game stratagem.

Hermione held her tongue. She was learning the hard way to pick and choose her battles with him. She was still flustered with the notion that he thought their attempt at cohabitation would somehow be as simple as it was during their days at Hogwarts. She could not fathom how he thought a castle— wherein his chambers were located in any number of discreet places away from her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower— would have been even remotely close to the situation that they now found themselves in at Spinner’s End where her bedroom was literally across the hall and they shared a bathroom. She realized in that moment that she had never even given a second’s thought to the fact that he— or any— of the faculty had resided in the castle. McGonagall she supposed, and Dumbledore as well, but it was honestly not something she’d ever thought of, outside of Hagrid, whose hut she had visited often during her school days.

After another moment’s contemplation she sighed. “Right,” she said and then stood from her bed. Hermione had never been one to pace but she felt restless in that moment trying to take everything in. “So now what?” she asked after only a moment’s turning about alongside of her bed. She stood facing him, just in front of him with her knees pressed against his as he remained seated at the edge of her mattress.

Severus quirked an eyebrow up on his forehead. “Now what, what?” he asked, his voice gentle but not without intent.

“Don’t be so thick, Severus,” she snapped, her feelings surging through her once more. “I’m asking—”

He shook his head, and she swore for a moment that he laughed. “Don’t ask me, Hermione. You are the one with the feelings,” he said.

“I should smack you for that,” she quipped. She leaned forward slightly but noted the way he straightened when she did.

“Defensive,” he said and then narrowed his eyes at her. “And I believe I have also said I won’t have any of that,” he added.

Hermione searched his eyes and sighed. She nodded her head and then quickly sat down beside him. “I don’t ever recall feeling so violent,” she confessed. “I can’t say it’s you— I mean that’s foolish, even if there is a correlation, I can’t blame you for suddenly feeling the urge to act out physically, I mean I can, but that’s not very responsible of me,” she realized after a moment that she was rambling and she blushed. “But it worries me,” she confessed.

Severus nodded slowly. “It is something to be addressed,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Though not tonight.”

Hermione sighed. “I suppose that’s it then?” she asked, titling her body to the side so that she could face him without straining her neck.

“What’s it?” he asked.

“You said ‘not tonight’ and that’s usually when you start to take your leave,” Hermione frowned.

“Usually,” he shrugged. “And then you fight with me, or beg me to stay, or pin me to your mattress for a shag.”

“That’s unfair,” she said. “I have never pinned you to any mattress for a shag,” she muttered, though she did feel rather embarrassed that he was right about the other two things. Severus said nothing. He did not make to stand from her bed. When she noticed that he wasn’t leaving, she slowly crept her fingers over to the top of his thigh. “Maybe just skip the fighting and the begging?” she offered quietly.

“And go straight to pinning me to the mattress for a shag?” he asked.

Hermione grunted. “Contrary to your popular belief, Severus, I do find things other than your dangly bits to be interested in when it comes to you.” He snorted. “I’m serious!” she protested.

“Though I am inclined to disbelieve you,” he started. “My derision was not at your confession but your phrasing.” Severus let both of his eyebrows ease up a bit onto his forehead. “Dangly bits?” he repeated.

Hermione flushed fully, the sting of red claiming her cheeks. She bit her lower lip but could not keep herself from laughing. “I don’t know!” she could not bring herself to look into his eyes in that moment. “It seems so crass to say…well…other things,” she shrugged.

“Indeed,” he said. “Says the woman who has no trouble…” he shook his head, seeming to think better of it. “But no matter.”

She sighed. “Look— I didn’t think this was going to be easy—”

“Congratulations on that astute thought,” he said. For a moment he sounded almost exactly as if nothing had never occurred between them. Not sex, not Nigel, not the insane living situation in which they found themselves, not the bizarre job which they were both holding down. For one blissed utterance he was the man that had relentlessly made her Potions class an intolerable hell. That made her smile. But the smile faded when she realized it was that intolerable hell that he’d been referring to, their past, however uninvolved, was what had been the catalyst for the predicament in which they currently found themselves.

“Will you see him again?” her mouth seemed to jump thought trains faster than her mind could keep up with.

“Nigel?” he asked. Severus frowned. “I don’t suppose telling you that I do not wish to discuss it will sit well with you.” She shook her head. “Very well,” he said. “I imagine so.”

Hermione nodded. She had expected as much, even if for the moment they’d shared something frivolous and amusing. She tried not to linger on the disturbing thoughts of the young boy that was apparently going to be sticking around in his life, regardless of where she stood with him. “Indeed,” she took his word and forced it between her lips.

Severus sighed. It was a heavy sigh that sounded heavy with frustration and annoyance. “I will tell you as I’ve told him, Hermione. This is not so easy as ‘pick a partner.’ There is no competition between the two of you and I am not interested in entertaining one of you over the other. Truth be told I’d be just as happy not entertaining either of you, my life was less complicated serving two masters.”

Hermione gasped. “You don’t mean that!”

Severus chuckled. It was a dark and mirthful sound. “You are right, I don’t. But some days it feels like it.” He paused and stretched his arms up over his head, yawning. This seemed to startle Hermione and he rolled his eyes. “It’s a yawn, Hermione, not the 13th use for dragon’s blood.”

She glared at him. “It’s just not something that I’ve seen you do. It seems oddly human,” she said with a hint of snipe in her voice.

“Just like when I caught you spying on me shaving,” he said and then slowly stood from her bed.

“I wasn’t spying!”

“This is true. You were blatantly staring. A spy would have at the very least tried to look as if they were interested in something else when caught,” he said. Hermione was up on her feet with her arms crossed over her chest. This caused him to chuckle. “Sit down, Hermione.” He quirked an eyebrow up at her when she remained rooted to her spot, arms tugged tightly around her figure. “No?” he asked. “Fine, don’t sit down, it matters very little to me.” When he turned to walk out of her bedroom he froze feeling her hand clutch at his arm. “I thought we were skipping the fighting and the begging?”

“In exchange for a shag pinned to the mattress,” she said with a hint of humor in her voice. “All you pinned to the mattress was a list of complications and flippancies,” she added, her voice ripe with bite.

Severus rounded on her. “You are insatiable,” he said gripping both of her shoulders suddenly.

Her eyes grew wide. “I was only teasing, Severus,” she said and then bit her lower lip. It was hard to deny that when he’d grabbed her she’d felt a thrill shoot through her body. Even more so that she’d lied to him outright just then. She had mostly been teasing but a part of her had hoped that he might make good on the good-natured banter they had started. While things had gotten out of hand in the workshop she had not been so quick to forget how very close he’d brought her to a climax in their sexual tussle and how very frustrating it had been not to achieve it.

Severus narrowed his eyes, searching her eyes for several moments. “My instincts tell me not trust a word you are saying,” he said. “That you wouldn’t be fussed in the least if I tossed you down onto that mattress, tore off your clothing, and ravished you until you begged me to stop.”

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. “That’s awfully—” she cleared her throat, the hoarse and scratchy vibrations sounding far too lusty for her own good. “That’s awfully detailed for someone who seems so fussed by my insatiable tendencies.”

“You are dreadful,” he whispered, leaning his lips close to her ear. She shivered. He chuckled, more darkly this time as he traced two fingers up her jawline. “If I tossed you down right now your knickers would be sopping.” He let his lips hover just at the shell of her ear, his tongue tracing the faintest line against her. “Don’t think I don’t know what I do to your body, Hermione.”

At first she made to jerk back from him, but instead she pushed herself forward, wrapping both arms around his neck. He grunted as she ground her hips against him. “Don’t think I don’t know what I do to your body, Severus.”

He growled and then dropped his hands to her hips, pushing her back at first only to draw her hard up against his body. “Not tonight,” he grumbled but ground his hips against hers as she had done but a moment before.

Hermione pulled back from him but did not release her hold on his shoulders. She knew she was not strong enough to pull him down onto the mattress, just like she knew she had not been strong enough to hold him down on the toilet seat the night they’d shagged in the bathroom, but in that moment she tugged him and they tumbled backward and down onto her bed. It was not graceful, though there was seldom much as far as grace was concerned when it came to her body and movement, and how he’d managed to keep from crushing her outright she hadn’t the faintest idea. “Never pinned me to a mattress?” he asked.

“Technically you’re pinning me,” she panted from beneath him, the tumble having stolen her breath.

“I can fix that,” he growled and with a greatly hefted effort he pulled himself off of her body and yanked her atop him.

Hermione was sprawled over him, mostly straddling his torso though a simple shift of her legs could have easily aligned her core over his cock, which she’d felt pressing into her the moment she’d brought their bodies together. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was insatiable. She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her body. And while her mind was asunder, she was not about to deny that mentally she wanted what he could offer her physically. Her heart was thrumming, she was warm, and she realized that for the first time since the night she’d come to him to be guided through her first bout with anal sex, that she was completely exposed. Though she was still dressed, her glamours, all of them, were undone. He hadn’t noticed anything but the tattoo on her arse the night he’d taken her anal virginity. But things were different now. He was free of his glamours and she of hers and there was something dangerous and exciting in that prospect. They were exposed to one another and she wondered if he realized it.

“I thought you said not tonight,” she whispered, sliding her body down his just slightly so that her core rested over his cock. He was hard, straining up through his trousers and it took all the self-control she had not to grind her hips hard down into him.

“I did,” he growled. “And then you pinned me to the mattress.”

“You’re an asrse,” she groused but leaned down over him and pressed her lips to his. No sooner had she kissed him then she found herself being pushed off him. “Oh!” she cried as she was dumped onto her side. Hermione was prepared to fuss, prepared to fight, but she was not prepared for the way he grabbed the side of her hip and pulled her body against his, mashing their pelvises together. She hissed but ground her hips against him as he moved his hand down over her arse and squeezed her cheek.

“I said not tonight,” he panted against her lips.

Hermione gave up trying to rationalize the situation. She gave up trying to understand it. In that moment even though he was saying one thing and doing another, she gave in. Lips met lips, hers to his or his to hers she didn’t know and she didn’t care. There was a struggle between their bodies as they tugged and pulled at one another, his hands fumbling with her bra, which was the only remaining vestment that had kept her chest from view after she’d removed her jumper to bare her scars to his eyes. Her fingers slipped more than once trying to undo his trousers and between the two of them they were both grunting trying to pull down her joggers.

Severus captured her hands and for a moment they both held completely still. She heard him muttering though couldn’t make out the words. A stiff breeze swept over her body and she squeaked. Some wandless spell had left her naked and at first she looked stricken but when she realized it had done the same for him she grinned, albeit sheepishly. “How did you do that?” she asked.

She had been expecting him to torment her and give the sarcastic answer of magic, and when he didn’t she found herself all the more endeared to him. “I’ve always wanted to,” he shrugged. “Never had the opportunity.” Their lips meant once more, but what he hadn’t spoken didn’t go unnoticed in her mind. Never had the opportunity meant that he had never performed such a spell in front of Nigel, which was the proof she had sought when trying to discern if the boy was a muggle. But she chased the thought from her mind, storing it away for later. The last thing she wanted to think about while he was heating her body with his pleasures was the other person in his life for who he felt a fondness. She was certain that it was bold of her to assume that he felt fondness for her, especially when he had not expressed as much in so many words, but in that moment she didn’t care.

She would care in the morning, and perhaps immediately once they’d finished having sex, particularly if he did not wait until she was sleeping to depart her bed, but in that present moment all she cared about was his body. Hermione was restless, her limbs stretching out over every inch of him and Severus seemed to share her frenetic energy, tracing and touching her everywhere. She could no more explain this strange desire to feel every bit of him than she could keep herself from doing so. Hermione was pleased that he seemed to be in a reflecting mood, copying her desires in that moment.

There was an urgency that drove their movements and yet their combined exploration of each other’s bodies was thorough and somehow more intimate than anything she’d ever felt. Her lips roamed the planes of his skin, and for once she was rather pleased that the light in her bedroom had been on. It allowed her a view of him that had stolen any words she would have had. He was naked, she had seen him without his clothes on many times. But this was different. In releasing the glamour that so carefully hid his dark mark and his puncture wounds, he had exposed a myriad of other scars that littered his body. Scorch marks and burns that looked as if lit wand tips had been blazed into his skin smattered through his chest and over his ribs and carved markings that looked angry ran up and down his legs.

It was impossible not to drink him in and she felt her heart swell even though she knew it was against her better judgement to do so. He had not simply forgotten to recover himself, he had chosen to remain exposed, showing her everything that he had. A particularly wicked scar curved around joint of his thigh where his leg met his torso and it caught her eye the minute her lips had trailed down his chest. She’d been absently stroking his cock with one hand, a bead of precum lubricating her palm as she did when she pressed her lips to the length of the scar that had fascinated her.

His sharp intake of breath stilled her for only a moment and when she gazed up the length of his body he was staring down at her. Eyes met eyes and she felt her face fill with coloring, though it was not so much of a blush as a warmth that radiated from his gaze into her face. There was something forbidden about seeing him in this way and although she knew it was absurd to attach meaning to it as he would late say it was complicated and a whole host of other nonsensical things, she couldn’t help but feel as if he were showing a fondness to her in that moment by doing so.

Hermione traced her tongue around the curve of the scar before she snaked her lips down over his pubic bone and began to lick a tender trail of kisses up the length of his glistening shaft. She yelped when he pulled her up away from him, her eyes blurry with confusion. He spoke not a word and for a moment she wasn’t sure what was happening as he pushed her away from him, guiding her head toward the foot of the bed. She was about to turn around and protest when he grabbed her hips and pulled her body back over him. “Oh!” she cried, falling awkwardly onto his chest.

She was facing down the length of his body, resting over him so that her head now hovered just above his cock. If he’d wanted her to crawl atop him surely he could have just said so. But before she could process his strange gesture she squealed at the sensation of his tongue parting her slick folds. “Oh fuck…” she moaned, her thighs trembling. It was a position that she vaguely remembered reading about in the tome he’d given her though she was buggered if she could remember the name of it. Her spine seized with pleasure as he licked her folds once more, his tongue waggling at her slit. Heated breath caressed her netherlips and she shuddered, her body tingling on edge.

It was difficult to concentrate but she attempted to do so anyhow, lowering her head to suckle the tip of his cock into her mouth. She was rewarded with a hiss and a groan from Severus and another slow firm lick of her womanhood. He would drive her mad if he kept up his ministrations. Hermione took several moments to find a rhythm that allowed her to bob down the length of his shaft without choking herself or being startled by his erratic licking tongue. It was a curious sensation, pleasuring him while being pleasured, but not without its merits. When she felt his cock tensing in her mouth she braced herself as best she could, prepared to swallow what she knew was coming.

Severus pulled her back with surprising fluidity and she whimpered at the sudden loss of his tongue. But then she was flipped onto her side, much as she had been the night he’d claimed her ass and for a moment she wondered if he were going to take her there again. He hauled her leg up and back over his hip but she felt the tip of his weeping shaft pressing at her core. With a moan he pushed into her, his lips assailing her neck and shoulder, though not in the brutal fashion that they had the morning he’d staked his claim on her flesh in the shower.

Hermione whimpered and moaned, rocking her hips back against him. The angle was deep and penetrating and yet shallow and teasing at the same time. It drove her ma. It was more than fitting for the man that was delivering it to her. She craned her neck back trying to capture his lips in a kiss and succeeded for a moment before she was sobbing out her release as he slammed her hard enough to make her come. She shuddered and convulsed against his body, panting as she felt him quicken his thrusts. A moment later he burst within her, groaning and letting his teeth sink down into the supple flesh of the side of her neck.

She was spent. How long they’d switched positions and explored each other’s bodies before he’d pulled her up onto him to tease her with his tongue while she blew him she couldn’t say. And then he’d shagged her senseless in a spooning position that was difficult to untangle from. When her breath finally eased into something normal she turned slowly onto her back, staring up at him as he laid on his side over her. “Not…tonight?” she whispered.

Severus shook his head. “Not tonight,” he repeated.

She longed to kiss him. She longed to pull him down into her arms or to push him onto his back and rest her head atop him. How she’d come to use him as a pillow a few nights ago she hadn’t the slightest idea but such a notion was tempting to her now. They laid that way for a long while in silence but the room was chilly with no blankets or clothes to cover her sweat-slicked post-coital body. She shivered after a time and then bit her lower lip. “Will you stay?” she asked.

Severus was silent. She wanted him to stay. Even if it meant nothing to him. Even if it meant heartache for her in the long run. There was something comforting about his presence. She was reminded briefly of how he did not cuddle but in that moment she didn’t care if he slept curled up at the foot of the mattress, she just didn’t want him to leave the bed.

“It’s not wise,” he said after a moment, though she noted that he made no move to get up from her bed.

“I know,” she said. “But you said not tonight,” she leaned her forehead against his chest. “Maybe you meant that about leaving my bed?” she offered. It was a stupid stretch but she was nothing if not a clever witch.

Severus scoffed. “You are pushing it,” he said but then heaved a tremendous sigh. “It so happens that I find myself inclined not to move,” he groaned when she made a giddy sound akin to a delighted giggling squeal. “Take that for what it’s worth, Hermione, and nothing more,” he added and then turned onto his back.

Hermione knew he meant what he said. If he was staying in her bed it was more than likely simply because it was easier not to get up. And that was probably true. His bed was all the way across the hall and it would mean listening to her fuss and possibly argue with him some more. She realized with a great sadness that she did often make it very difficult for him and that perhaps giving in to her was really the lesser of two evils. But she refused to acknowledge that realization for the moment, choosing instead to snuggle herself quite closely to his body. “Will you get the duvet?” she asked. Somewhere between removing their clothes with his spell and tossing about on the bed, her duvet had slid completely to the floor.

“Hermione,” he warned.

“I’m cold. And you’re already about to fuss at me for snuggling close to you,” she snapped. “So get the bloody duvet and I’ll back off.” It was audacious of her, she knew. But if he wanted to disconnect or play things for face value she was going to do the same. When he did not move she opened her eyes wide. A small smile graced her lips as she pulled back from his figure. His eyes were closed, though she could tell by the way his chest rose and fell that he was not sleeping. “Oh you’re ornery,” she muttered. Though she hadn’t wanted to get up at all, she would freeze even if she’d pressed herself to him all through the night. Retrieving the duvet, she flipped the light switch down and closed her bedroom door. The room was dark save for the trickle of moonlight that danced through the window.

Hermione slid back into bed and plopped the duvet down mostly over her own body. There was a shuffling and a rustling and a kicking of limbs, though not entirely her own as Severus tugged at the oversized comforter and straightened it out properly over them. He had remained on his back after fixing the duvet, though his head was on its side facing her. She stared into his eyes, what could be seen of them in the darkness of the room, and waited. After several long moments in silence he rolled his eyes. “Go on,” he muttered. Without a word Hermione nuzzled her head under his arm and up onto his chest. At first his arm was casually draped over her back but as she adjusted herself to be comfortable she noticed the way he slid his hand down to cup her figure more closely to him. She smiled. It wasn’t the answer, it wasn’t much at all but it was a start.

“Goodnight, Severus,” she said. He grunted. “Oh go on,” she muttered.

Severus swatted her backside. “You will be the death of me yet.”


	18. The Love Tunnel

There was no warm breathing pillow beneath her cheek. There wasn’t even a warm body in her bed. There had been a warm and naked body in her bed, the operative word being had. The warm naked body had even nudged her awake, however inadvertently, sometime shortly after she’d fallen to sleep. The result of said nudging had been a curious round of deeply intimate sex that had been nothing like what she had experienced with him before. It had been slow and heated, limbs tangled in one another, his fingers threaded through her hair, his lips everywhere. But that had been in the middle of the night. Now Hermione was alone. It would have been one thing to have woken and found the bed empty, she could have lived with that. She wouldn’t have been happy about it, but she would have lived with it.

Waking to the sound of a row was frustrating enough. Hearing every blessed word of said row as it was bickered loudly back and forth between Severus and Nigel as if she were not in the house, or anywhere within earshot, was infuriating. At first she’d tossed the pillow over her head, intent on drowning out their voices, which were arguably quite heated. But after just a few minutes of attempting to smother her ears beneath the fluffy down-feathers, she’d given up on going back to sleep. Several times Hermione had contemplated getting up to interrupt them, or at the very least sneak quietly out into the hallway and slip unnoticed into the bathroom. But their arguing seemed to shift from his bedroom, through the hallway, out into the living room, and back into the bedroom once more. Several times she’d heard his bedroom door slam open and shut in rapid succession. She had scrapped the idea of leaving her bed sometime between Severus shouting about some bloke named Michael and Nigel blustering about Severus’ wishy washy sexuality.

Hermione laid on her back, wide eyes gazing hard up at the ceiling. She couldn’t take much more of their shouting. She had heard Severus raise his voice exactly once to her and it had been the previous night when he’d yelled at her in front of the pub in Knockturn Alley. It had been startling but it had been brief and although it had terrified her, she much preferred it to the unending lover’s quarrel that appeared to be conducting itself just outside of her bedroom door. With a frustrated groan she kicked her feet hard into the mattress. Feeling as if she had little choice in the matter, she forced herself from the bed. Deciding that she wanted to end their verbal boxing match and not spur it on further, she opted for clothing before pulling the door to her bedroom open and stalking out into the hallway.

She’d grabbed the first shirt which her fingers had grasped when she’d reached into her top drawer, paying no notice to the fact that it was Severus’ faded shirt that he’d laid her to sleep in the night she’d contracted Flinge. With a pair of boy shorts covering her lady bits she moved herself into the sitting room, arms crossed casually over her chest as she watched Nigel gesturing wildly with his arms right in Severus’ face. “I hate to interrupt, but any moment now the neighbors are going to ring Scotland Yard for a domestic,” she said rather pointedly.

Her voice had halted their words. Severus had turned to face her first and immediately she knew something was wrong when she saw the color, what little there was, drain from his face. Nigel, who had still been huffing when he’d fallen silent snapped his head to her direction and the look on his face was a plethora of mixed things, first shock, then hurt, followed by something that looked like murderous rage. For all the world she wished she had her wand, though remembering that he was a muggle, she was glad in that moment that she did not.

“What is that tawdry tart doing in my shirt?” he whined. His glassy eyes glared with disgusted disdain in Hermione’s general direction.

“Don’t be crass,” Severus warned.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’ve been after you to get that shirt back for ages!” the boy growled.

“I gave it to you, Nigel—”

“Oh don’t even start with me, Sevvy!” the boy started pacing in distracted starts, casting furtive looks again toward Hermione. “All that rubbish about holding onto it because it reminds you of me! I don’t know why I even bother with you! You’re nothing but a liar! And a cheater! And a confused idiot!” he shouted.

Hermione, who was trying desperately not to be amused by the boy’s stupid tantrum took a tentative step toward them. “Here, I don’t want it anyhow,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to tug up on the shirt to take it off.

“Ugh! No!” Nigel shuddered. “No one needs to see that, honey,” he clucked with disproval at her. “Keep it on. It’ll never be the same now that it’s been tainted.”

“Nigel!” Severus growled.

“Go on, guard dog. Get your bitch,” he snapped.

“You are being intolerable!” Severus snapped back.

“And you’re being a fusty old fag who’s got his dick in a twist because some harried hussy has you all trussed up! Student my arse!” he spat and then ever so rudely flipped his middle finger at Hermione.

“Very mature, you twat,” Severus growled. Hermione could hardly believe what was coming out of his mouth; she couldn’t believe what was coming out of either of their mouths. But she was hard pressed to step back into her bedroom and abandon what she’d found herself stuck in the middle of.

“You’re nothing but a lying manipulative bastard,” Nigel seethed. “You said you weren’t seeing her— but here she is— and in my shirt!”

“I said I was not in a relationship with her, Nigel. Open your god damned elephantine ears and listen when I speak!” Severus roared.

Nigel gasped and looked stricken as if Severus’ insult had stung straight through to his heart. Hermione pitied him for a split second until she remembered a particular insult that Severus had flung at her in her fourth year regarding her teeth. That had been far worse than the verbal lashing the boy had just received, and his ears looked mostly normal even if they were a bit large for his pin-pointed head. And he wasn’t surrounded by all of his classmates.

“You’re nothing but an asshole and a liar!” Nigel looked to be on the verge of tears.

“I did not lie to you! I told you— she is not—”

“You said she was your student!” he shrieked. “You said you don’t let students live here— you wouldn’t let me—”

“You were fifteen, you daft prick!” Severus growled. “I was not stealing you away from your parents’ home to stay here because you thought you were in love with me! I’m twenty-five years older than you, Christ, you idiot! How do you think that would have looked? Finding you living here? Doing what we were doing? They could have had me put away! Charged with abuse of a minor, with statutory rape! Are you that fucking thick, Nigel?” She had never heard Severus rage the way she was hearing him rage in that moment. He was heated, he was blasting the boy out of the water, and she could hardly keep up with their words. Hermione stayed rooted to her spot, watching them like a flaming tennis match gone awry. “Do you even think before you open that promiscuous gob of yours?”

“You said age didn’t matter! That I was just—” Nigel gasped loudly, his retort cut short at Severus’ latest insult. “Promiscuous? How dare you!” he raged. “I’m not the one keeping Broomhilda for a house fuck!” He threw an angry arm in Hermione’s direction. “You’ve got nerve you— you— whore! But you’re not even a whore! Because God only knows what you have to do to get it up when you’re with her! You— you— faker!” he shouted. Tears were now streaking down the boy’s face and Hermione was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She very much wanted to shout out that Severus had absolutely no problem getting it up when he was with her, but the situation was already a tempestuous maelstrom thundering wildly out of control and she was certain her little addition was not going to be of any help.

“You are jealous, Nigel! Admit it! Jealous as the damn day is long because you’re greedy! I give you an inch and you take a mile! You always have! You weaseled your way into my life— every fucking time I’d say no you’d plead! You’d whine! It was always your way— I’d cave in and it was never enough for you! I was never enough for you!” Severus snarled. “You expect me to keep you as the only one I keep while you slum it with Michael or Rubin or whatever his name is this week—”

“I told you I’d give him up when you put me first!” he cried.

“I always put you first, damnit!” Severus was seething. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. For a moment Hermione worried that he might cause himself a fit of cardiac arrest. Her eyes darted back to Nigel.

“That’s why you wrote and said not to come over until this morning then, hmm? Too busy being a confused fuckwit fucking that freak all night long?”

“I am not a freak!” Hermione shouted. Berating Severus was one thing, but she would hold her own as he turned his insult barrage against her.

Severus whipped his head back to Hermione as if he’d somehow forgotten she was standing there. His eyes lingered on her face and for a moment. She watched the heaving breaths in his chest ease. Was he calmed by her presence or was she merely serving as a distraction before he went double-barreled into his next go-round at Nigel? She shook her head, closed her eyes and against her better judgement took a step toward him. His face looked alarmed and she halted her steps. “Hermione, just—”

“I’d still be in bed if you two hadn’t woken me,” she said, hoping that she sounded calmer than she felt. Her emotions were still running rampant from the previous night’s encounter and while the sex had been brilliant, she wasn’t certain she was in the right headspace to deal with all she’d been put through since waking.

“Slut,” Nigel hissed.

“Nigel!” Severus growled.

“You can Nigel me all you want, Sevvy! You’re a slut and she’s a— a— witch!” he shouted.

Hermione gazed at him with wide eyes for a moment and then lost every good bit of sense she had. She snorted and then clutched at her ribs, doubling over in front of herself in a gut-shaking laugh. She couldn’t control the laughter that was rolling in peels out of her mouth. Her eyes were watering from laughing so hard when she finally lifted her head. She settled her gaze on Severus’ face who either looked livid or as if he were about to combust, it was difficult to say which, but she swore that the corners of his lips were tugging just the slightest bit upwards.

“And she’s barmy!” Nigel growled. “You’re a moron for being ensnared by her stupid magic spells— trying to convince you to sleep with her— and she’s an enchantress! How the bloody hell else could someone like her snag a fag like you?” he cried. “She’s got visible breasts for god’s sake!”

Hermione should have been insulted. She was certain there was an insult in that jumble of accusations somewhere, but when she drew in a breath to try and calm herself she burst into another hearty round of laughter. “Ha!” she cried, once again doubled over. “And I used a lust potion to sway him!” she couldn’t help herself.

“Hermione!” Severus growled tersely.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Severus, I am, but are you listening to him?” she was trying to calm her ribs which were still shaking from laughing so hard.

“Rude hussy! Fine! Keep her! She’ll probably give you syphilis if she hasn’t already!” he sniffed and then crossed his arms haughtily over his chest. “And I want my freaking shirt back!” He stamped his foot as if for emphasis.

Hermione burst into another loud bellow of laughter at the tantrum the boy threw with his lone stomped foot. Severus shot her a piercing glare but it went unnoticed. He started shouting with Nigel once more. She was drowning in her own laughter and only caught snippets of the conversation, if shouting in each other’s faces at the top of their lungs could be called such a thing. Nigel was mostly slinging insults and names in Severus’ direction, while her poor housemate tried to back pedal and bark some sense into the boy’s head. But when the ultimatum flew from the bratty boy’s lips, her laughing stopped and it took all she had not to speak for Severus.

“It’s either her or me!” He glared.

The room fell silent. Severus, who was panting and puffing from all of the shouting and chasing the boy’s pacing all around the living room, stood drawing in deep heavy breaths. He looked at Hermione with desperate eyes and then shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “But I told you, I am not in a relationship with her. Or with you. We have what we have. She lives here because that is our arrangement. And if you are not interested in continuing with what we’ve had as we’ve had it— then I cannot help you. But I am not going to be forced to pick and choose simply because you’ve become a green-eyed monster that I do not recognize.”

Hermione frowned just slightly. In a sense she supposed she shouldn’t have expected anything more than what he’d uttered. He hadn’t outright refused her or given her up to pursue Nigel. Whatever it was they had, Severus seemed perfectly content to carry it on while still musing and entertaining whatever it was that she and he currently had. Only Nigel seemed to feel differently. If it put an end to Nigel, she was elated for that prospect, but she was also cautious as it did not necessarily mean he would be keen to jump into something exclusive with her. She held her breath and waited to see if the boy would protest.

Nigel pawed at his eyes, wiping tears furiously back from them. “Then I’m going back to Michael’s.” He stormed toward the door. Severus stood in the living room watching the boy retreat. Two quick strides brought him to the boy but he did not reach his hand out to stop him.

“Nigel—”

“No. No, Sevvy!” Nigel cried. “You’re a cruel mean miserable man.”

“Nigel!” Severus growled quite close to the boy’s face. “You know that with all my heart—”

“You have no heart!” the boy cried. “And I had a mind once to give you mine,” he sniveled. “Go be with your whore,” he spat and then flung the door inward. “And I want my fucking shirt back!” Nigel stepped outside and slammed the door shut. The bang of the door echoed through the room and then all was silent. She knew that Nigel had not disapparated away as muggles could not do such a thing and for a moment she almost reprimanded Severus. She was ready to shout at him to go after the stupidly emotional boy, but she checked the urge and after a moment it dissipated. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling in that moment, only that their row had shaken her up nearly as much as everything that had happened between she and Severus up to that point of their involvement.

Taking a tentative step toward him she kept her eyes trained on him as if approaching a wounded Hippogriff. She longed to tend to him but knew that such a gesture carried the great risk of being eviscerated. Hermione’s timid steps brought her to stand beside him. At first she said nothing, knowing that her words were likely to set him off. She wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure that was the best way to approach the situation either. With a slow, deep breath, she moved until she was standing in front of him. “Do you want breakfast?”

Severus sighed. “Only women seem to think the world’s problems can be solved with food,” he muttered.

Hermione did her best not to huff. “Is that no then?”

He turned glaring eyes to her. “I want to fuck something senseless,” he said. “But it cannot be you,” he growled and without another word, stalked back through the house, into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Right,” she said though he was long gone from hearing her reply. She sighed. Hermione had never been one to leave well enough alone. She should have gone to the kitchen and made herself breakfast or at the very least a pot of tea. Or she should have gone back to her bedroom. Or even gone out to the shops, perhaps to pay Molly Weasley a visit, anywhere but the bathroom where he was currently holed up. Already she could hear him blasting the water. She imagined if Severus Snape were the type to blast music and shout that there would have been quite a ruckus coming from inside by now.

She waited outside the bathroom door for a few moments, uneasily shifting her weight back and forth from her left foot to her right foot. Rationally she knew there was nothing she could do for the situation. He’d even said that it couldn’t be her, the thing he fucked senseless. That did not deter her from wishing to help. Hermione knew somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind that interrupting him was not a good idea, in fact there was a great chance that it would only worsen the situation. But she couldn’t help herself. Exactly once in her life she’d let someone storm off without chasing after them and it had nearly gotten Ronald Weasley killed.

She wrapped her hand around the bathroom door handle and pushed it inward. A flood of steam swept over her and she ducked her head just to make her way across the porcelain floor. The curtain wasn’t pulled all the way shut and she could see him standing inside the shower, hunched forward leaning into the spray. He rested his forearm against the wall of the shower, his head leaning against it. The water slithered through his hair drawing it in black snakes down around his face and neck. She longed to slip into the shower behind him, wrap her arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder blades.

He’d turned around once in their evening of passionate fucking and the moonlight had lit up his backside, revealing to her a sprinkling of scars up and down his spinal column. They were gone now and she supposed that it made sense that he was glamoured once more. Surely he wouldn’t be able to appear in front of Nigel as a clear skinned unmarked man one minute and have scars abound the next. Biting her lower lip because the habit had returned and she was dreadfully nervous, she approached the edge of the shower. Hermione had expected him to halt her with words or to turn and dismiss her. But if he had even noticed she’d entered the bathroom he wasn’t letting on.

It was a bold move. Hermione slid the shirt up over her head. She had kept it foolishly because it had smelled of him. She had not been aware of its particular history. Laying it gently against the sink basin she shimmied out of her boy shorts and stood naked in front of the shower. “I’m coming in,” she announced and then smacked her palm against her forehead realizing how utterly stupid that had sounded. But there was silence from the shower, save for the natural sound of the running water that filled the bathroom. Naked and determined to overcome her stupidity, she pulled the curtain back and stepped up into the shower, careful to stand just far enough back from him to keep from startling him. She’d announced herself, though he hadn’t acknowledged her.

Hermione was out of her depth. Any sane person would have left him alone. A normal individual would not have immediately stripped off her clothing and climbed into the shower with him, but Hermione, and subsequently her situation with Severus Snape, was anything but normal. Her fingers trembled and she squeezed them together several times before managing to still them. Only when they were still did she draw them up and rest them against his back. He flinched but otherwise remained unmoved. It was a gesture, simple but tender, and it spoke volumes where she knew words would fail. Speaking with silence had never been her strong suit. And before long she found herself falling back to the comfort of her words, even if she knew they were likely to irritate him.

“I know this can’t be easy for you?” she started and then sighed. That was exactly the wrong thing to say. “You’re stubborn, I know that— and I shouldn’t have laughed at him, I know that— but you should—”

He turned his head over his shoulders and it stopped her. One look could stop her words. It was an unnerving ability, one that she wished she possessed. Her eyes met his and she bit her lower lip. He shook his head and then leaned forward, effectively pulling his back away from her hand. Hermione watched as he turned around in the spray, letting the water wash down his back. He was facing her and for a moment his eyes shifted up and down her body. She still wasn’t completely comfortable with his gaze, she wasn’t sure she ever would be, not when it came to her body being naked in front of his eyes. Even when she wasn’t naked there was something about the way his eyes could penetrate through her that made her nervous. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of his, even though he’d looked her over.

“You talk too much,” he muttered and then leaned his head back into the shower. Severus closed his eyes, letting the water run down his face and she watched him, fascinated by the way he seemed to melt beneath the spray. Whatever he was feeling, whatever he was thinking, it was rinsing down over his body and swirling down the drain with the heated water. Hermione stepped forward, again her hands trembled, but she placed them against his chest. He opened his eyes, tilting his head downward to keep the water from running directly into them. “I said—”

“I know,” she leaned closer to him still until her face was but a breath apart from his skin. “You need to fuck something senseless and it can’t be me.” She repeated his words with defeat in her voice. “I don’t see why not,” she said with a shrug. “I’m here…I’m willing…”

Severus shook his head. “That isn’t fair to you and will only cause further…” but his words trailed off as she leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips against his jaw. At first he resisted, pulling his head back from her grasp but when she flexed her fingers over his chest, gingerly letting her nails rake over his nipples, he sighed. “Why are you so willing to let me use you this way?” he asked.

She was not accustomed to being asked questions. Hermione had always been the one to ask the questions. Divorcing the notion in her mind that sex with him was anything other than sex, she bit her lower lip, leaned up once more— this time on her tiptoes— and pressed her lips against his ear. “Because you need me,” she whispered. “You need this. You need someone. I’m someone. I’m here. And I’m willing.”

There was a moment; a breath was caught halfway between silence and question and it hung in the shower between them. She held his gaze. He shook his head. Severus sighed again. Hermione was certain that was going to be the end of it, but he stood with his back in the water, the shower’s spray pelting down over his body furthering the steam that had surmounted in the bathroom. She had always liked her showers near scalding, something about the way it eased the grime and emotions of the day’s toils away had always served as a great comfort to her. Feeling that searing heat, even though his body blocked most of it, was a small comfort, despite their current situation.

When he didn’t speak, not to throw her out, not to take her up on her offer, she weighed her options. Somewhere in the back of her overworked mind she knew that he was right. Using her in that moment would only serve to complicate whatever it was they were experiencing, the potential for ‘fondness’ as he called it. But in a dreadfully dark and sinister alcove of her brain she rationalized that offering herself up to him in that moment was a tactical effort that would further cement his feelings for her. Being able to provide a modicum of comfort, regardless of the fact that it was a physical release of frustrations, when the boy he was so fond of had walked out on him gave her the advantage. This cataclysmic spark echoed with verve through her mind and she made her decision.

Hermione leaned her face up to his once more, letting her lips hover for the briefest of seconds over his before she pressed a delicate kiss against the corner of his mouth. A second kiss was pressed against his jaw and a third just where his jaw met his neck. A slow heated trail of kisses worked its way down over his skin and he did nothing to stop her as she sank onto her knees in the shower, grazing her nails gently up and down his thighs until she was situated before him. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. It was still an endeavor that she was practicing, but one that she believed she was mastering, albeit slowly. The art of drawing him into her mouth was becoming something that she enjoyed practicing.

There was a soft gasp, his breath blending with the hiss of the shower as she took his length into her mouth, slowly bobbing her head down his shaft. There had been a hint of hardness, whether from the frustrating row with Nigel, the thoughts he’d allowed himself thereafter, or the cursory glance up and down her body when she’d entered the shower, but the reason was not important. He hardened against her tongue and she brought one hand to grip his hip. She had never been on her knees in the shower before, but found that it was not so unpleasant as she might have once suspected. The water distracted her from the pressure that her weight put on her legs and the delicious taste of his cock occupied all the other facets of her attention.

Spindly fingers were threaded into her hair as she began to bob her lips up and down the length of his cock, licking the underside of him as she went. This continued for several moments before Hermione’s attempt at fellatio was cut drastically short. She whimpered as he pulled back from her, hauling her to her feet. Her heart was racing from the sudden gesture and for a moment she feared that he had changed his mind and was going to throw her from the shower. A microscopic voice in the back of her mind chastised her for such thoughts. While he was brutal when they fucked, not once had he shown any sort of physical violence to her and reprimanded her for even the simplest of transgressions made against his person.

When he grabbed her hips, Hermione moaned. The pressure of his fingertips digging into her skin caused her legs to tremble. Though her eyelids were fluttering as if to shut completely, she caught his gaze and held it. He was searching her eyes, searching for answers that she did not have, that she could not have. Severus’ grip tightened on her hips, already the buds of bruises blossoming into her delicate skin beneath the pressure. She moaned once more when he spun her about, thrusting her around until her back was pressed against the wall beneath the showerhead. She cried out, his cock all but impaling her directly. The motion was sudden and had she not been pressed back against the wall of the shower Hermione knew she would have lost her balance completely and toppled to the floor.

Severus was merciless as he pounded himself into her, driving himself harder and harder into her core, each thrust baring his full weight into her figure as if he were trying to make the shower wall one with her hips. They had fucked innumerable times, she even cautioned to think that once or twice there was such a tenderness and understanding to their sex that it could be called making love. They had experimented, she had been taught, and they had worked through a multitude of positions and techniques, but never in her sexual experience with him— or any other man— had she felt such unrelenting force, such unrestrained intensity. She would be lucky if she could walk when all was said and done.

Water sprayed down over her; this made it difficult to keep her eyes focused on him. Her eyelashes batted rapidly trying to clear her line of sight, but it did little to help. She heard her voice crying out, whimpers, moans, full-on groans as he continued to bang her into what felt like oblivion. Never could she recall his cock being so hard, or his hips possessing such force. He was fucking every ounce of anger, frustration, fury, and grief that he felt into her sex at that moment and she felt as if she were going to explode. His skin was wet as she tried to grip the tops of his shoulders, though this was a short-lived attempt as one strong hand grasped both of her wrists together and pulled them swiftly above her head, stretching her arms out above her. She whimpered, breasts jutting forward with the motion.

“Sev— ah— ah!” she cried, feeling his cock piston hard against the depths of her walls. It was bordering on painful though he was lost to the frantic rhythm of ramming himself into her over and over. Hermione twisted her wrists, managing to free them from his grip at the same time that he hoisted her right leg up high around his hip, deepening the angle as he continued to ram his cock into her. She grabbed his hair, her fingers tangling into his wet locks, nails raking for purchase against the back of his head. Her body was quaking, a blinding whiteness dancing just beyond her eyelids, which had fallen shut in the affront of continual shower spray.

Hermione’s body convulsed. Her core clenched his shaft and she came. There was such a feral intensity to the way this sudden orgasm seized her body that it frightened her as it rippled through her. She clutched and clung at him, her senses simultaneously heightened and dulled, a ringing in her ears matching the bursts of painful pleasure that ricocheted through her body, zapping each nerve ending with burning jolts of ecstasy. And then he came. There was a growl, deep and carnal, his body stilling against hers as he slammed into her once more, skin quaking against skin. Long hard spurts of his release filled her as they quaked together. Her legs were tingling, both the one he held high against his hip and the one that was barely keeping her balanced on the floor of the shower. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his finger, no longer clawed into his hair, but embracing him as if her life depended on it.

A chill crept along her skin. That forced her eyes open. How long had they been closed? How long had she been pressed against the wall of the shower with him pressed into her? He’d turned the water off, but had not moved from her body. She was still panting, though so was he. Hermione whimpered, startled by the way she flinched as he cupped her cheek. Severus withdrew his hand and stepped back from her, the sudden loss of his cock between her legs both unwelcome and unexpected. She bit her lower lip and mentally berated herself. She wasn’t certain that she could lean forward and pull him back to her without losing her balance. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her throat scratchy. She cleared it. “Body was just on overdrive,” she said. Hermione had no idea what had caused her to react in such a way to him, but she didn’t like the response nor what it had triggered in him that moment.

Severus stood, staring at her, as if turning something heavy over in his mind. When he stepped out of the shower, she forced herself not to whimper in protest. It took a moment for her to compose her breathing, and moreover to compose her thoughts so that she could better explain the onslaught of experiences that had made her suddenly respond as if she were afraid of him, but before she could open her mouth to speak, his hand was shoved through the shower curtain once more, holding two thick towels. Hermione leaned cautiously up off the shower wall, waiting a moment to be sure she was steady on her feet before she pulled the shower curtain back to look at him. He was standing in the steam-flooded bathroom, mostly visible as the heated mist began to dissipate, with a thick black towel wrapped around his waist. His hair clung to the side of his neck, curling at the tops of his shoulder and little rivulets of water trickled down onto his chest.

Hermione was cautious as she stepped out over the tub, taking one of the two towels offered to her and wrapping it around her body. She took the other towel and stepped toward him, slowly placing it around his shoulders. He bristled but did not pull away and there was no flinching as she had done when he’d cupped her cheek. She was thoroughly surprised when she pressed his back, pushing him forward, to see that he bent as her hand guided him to. With practiced care she wrapped the towel up and around his head, capturing all of his soaked tresses into a neat little stack before binding it into itself and letting him stand upright. His gaze was unreadable as usual, though he’d allowed her such a simple and oddly sentimental gesture. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing it to compensate for how he had scared her in the shower just then.

“Would you care for some breakfast now?” she offered. “That was a lot of energy spent…”

He scoffed, a faded smirk crossing his lips. “I’d care for a rest,” he said and then added, though somewhat cautiously. “Alone.”

It pained her to hear such words, but she nodded her head. He had told her that doing as they had just done would only complicate things. Of course she couldn’t fathom what was flickering through his brain in that moment, everything with Nigel was still fresh in addition to everything that had transpired between them the previous night, and really everything that had been leading up to that point. He had needed a means to an ends; he had needed a good senseless fuck and that was exactly what she had offered. There was no cuddling to be had, no intimacy to be shared. He certainly was not one to talk about it. Hermione drew her towel around her figure tighter. “Okay,” she said, brushing past him to get to the bathroom door, though she let her fingers brush the top of his hand as she did. “But I’m putting breakfast on anyhow, and I’ll leave you a plate in the icebox,” she said.

If he protested or objected she didn’t wait to hear it. Hermione slipped across the hallway into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She didn’t lock it, there was no point, he would not be chasing after her, and even if he did it wasn’t as if she didn’t wish to see him. It was the other way around. She forced the revolting feelings that were plaguing her mind and her stomach from her body. He was tolerating her; he was using her; all of these things were true but never once had he tried to mask them or disguise them. Never once had he presented her with anything other than what it was. He’d stayed in her bed the night before because he was disinclined to move. He had boldly said so and told her not to take it for more than what he said it was. He had said so many things and although he had opened up to her on some level, he was still a great enigma shrouded in a headache and coated in heartache. But she could no more turn off her feelings for him than he could switch on his empathy and sense of feelings for her. The human heart, magical or muggle, was a bitch that way.

It did not take her long to find herself in the kitchen. Cooking, even at the most stressful of times, had calmed her nerves, but she’d been so far removed from its practice that she had forgotten what effect it had on her. She’d whipped up pancakes, proper sausage, scrambled eggs, toast, and tea, serving herself a full stick-to-your-ribs sort of breakfast before carefully laying out a plate for him, with a ready-fresh stasis charm on it, and tucking it into the icebox. She thought a bit about going to the shops as she set the dishes to washing, and pondered for a moment popping in to visit Molly Weasley or even Harry and Ginny, but she realized after the washing up had finished that being with confidants was unwise given her current emotional state. She wasn’t overly interested in the shops, but perhaps a stroll through them would do her some good just to clear her head.

She could have gone anywhere. Hogsmeade or even muggle shops in Piccadilly Square would have suited her just find, but she’d ended up in Diagon Alley, pacing back and forth in front of the Joke Shop like a nervous nelly unsure as to whether or not she could muster up the courage to go inside. When she did finally enter the shop, Hermione was surprised to see that it wasn’t crowded, at least not the main floor. What startled her was the number of witches scuttling quickly up the stairs to the overhang of the shop, disappearing behind an inconspicuous pink curtain. She blushed. She knew that George had talked about having the adult products set up in a private location with an age-line charm in place to keep under-aged witches and wizards out, but she hadn’t realized he’d actually gone and done so, or that they had enough functional products to really make such an option viable.

Hermione glanced around. George was at the register, ringing up an older wizard who was quite gray in the beard. She felt her face tinge scarlet as she watched George slip a box of Lustipops into an ordinary Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes brown paper bag. Completing his purchase, the wizard turned to leave the shop, caught sight of Hermione, and smiled. Evidently he had no idea she’d seen exactly what she’d purchased, and made this notion that much clearer when he greeted her. “Some Ton-Tongue Toffees for my grandson, he can’t get enough of them,” he grinned with glee and not a trace of nerves in his voice. Whether or not he’d also purchased the confection for his grandchild, Hermione did not know, nor did she care, but she smiled politely with a nod and then scurried toward the register, letting the wizard go about his business.

“Hermione!” George beamed at her. She was surprised he was so pleased to see her. Whatever Severus had pardoned as her excuse for such foul behavior was clearly working quite well. “You feeling alright? I’ve got some new things that we ought to get testing tonight if you’re up to it, the convention’s going to be here sooner than we know it,” he said and then pointed up to the pink curtain. “I’ve had at least a dozen sales already today just from those products, and it’s barely a fraction of what the full line will be,” he was grinning from ear to ear, unable to contain his excitement and his joy.

“That’s wonderful, George,” she said, though she wasn’t sure that her facial expression matched her tone. She was genuinely happy to hear that the products were moving quickly, she wasn’t even thinking about the financial implications and how that would benefit her. Her mind was stuck mulling over coming back to the workshop that evening and testing more products with Severus. She would have to face the music at some point, it was an inevitability that simply could not be escaped, especially since they were contracted to appear at the convention. And putting it off was only going to delay the inevitable. Nothing had changed, only everything had changed. That was her problem. Hermione had no handle on her emotions, though the same too could be said for Severus, only in so much as he seemed not to have any upon which to have a handle, and it was complicating what they were doing together as colleagues. The idea made her snort inwardly. Sex-toy-testers were hardly what one would consider colleagues despite the intimate level that their working conditions brought to the table.

“Earth calling Hermione?” George’s hand was waving in front of her face.

“What? Oh, sorry, George, was just thinking…”

“Look, if you’re still not up to it— I know Snape said you had a really bad reaction— so if you need another night—”

“No, no, I was thinking about how your mother’s been after me to come round and see her,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie as Molly Weasley was always after all of her children to pop round and see her, even Hermione. “She tends to want to know what I’m up to…” she could feel her cheeks flushing again.

George seemed to catch on rather quickly and blushed himself. “Right, yes, well, discretion, especially where mum is concerned, is not just preferable, but compulsory, I think.”

Hermione nodded. “Too right,” she said. “Anyway…glad to see things are going well…and yes, I’ll be fine. Should we pop round about six?”

“Actually, I was just going to send an owl to Snape and see if half seven or even eight would be alright.”

Hermione frowned. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Oh, sure, Hermione, things are fine,” she noticed the way he paused, and then flushed just a bit. “I’m having a quick drink with someone is all,” he shrugged.

She could tell he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and ordinarily she would have teased him mercilessly but in that moment she could hardly bring herself to find the spirit. “Of course,” she said with a polite smile. “Eight is fine if that gives you enough time to enjoy your drink,” she offered. “I can’t speak for Severus, but eight or even nine is fine by me.”  
“Great,” George smiled. “I’ll pop off an owl to him quite quick then— will you mind the shop a minute while I run upstairs?”

“Sure, George, sure.” Hermione had never minded a shop before, though it wasn’t Advanced Potions. She had minded the whole of the Hogwarts student body as prefect in her sixth year in addition to facing down the Dark Lord and having survived. She could manage the shop for a few moments while George sent an owl to Severus. She wasn’t about to divulge to George, though a part of her suspected he knew, that they were living together and that she could have just as easily taken word home to the man about the shift in time. She very much doubted that Severus would mind them starting later, in so far as she could tell he didn’t do much with his free time.

Two customers, both with products from the upstairs line, made their way to the register before George had returned and much as she had suspected, she’d managed with them just fine. Both were witches, one old enough to be her mother and the other quite a bit younger than she was, but she noted that both seemed relieved to see a woman at the counter. Though she suspected if they knew George’s sexual proclivities, they would feel far more at ease. There was something about a gay man in a sex shop that just put her mind to rest, and she imagined that it might be the same for other women. When George returned he smiled. “So half nine tonight then?”

Hermione had grinned and nodded her reply before excusing herself from the joke shop, wondering how Severus was going to take the news of their delayed start. She doubted very much that George had bothered to go into detail about why they would be starting late, though it did tickle her somewhat to know that George was seeing someone. Of course he hadn’t specified that it was a date but given the fact that he’d said he was having a drink with someone rather than stating a mate or a colleague, she concluded that the meeting was of an intimate nature. It made her smile to think on it. Her smile quickly turned to a frown when she stepped out into alley and saw the ominous black storm clouds lurking overhead. She sighed. Even in Diagon Alley rain was always in the forecast, it was the UK, after all.

At first she’d fretted about heading back to the house at Spinner’s End. Not because of the weather or even because of what he might say about the late start, but simply because she did not know what she would say if she encountered him. It wasn’t that she wished to avoid him, quite the opposite, but she knew that if she did see him she would want to talk. She always wanted to talk. And talking was not something that he seemed to enjoy, especially not when it came to discussing things relating to them. But all she longed to do was discuss it. To what end she couldn’t rightly say because in no scenario that her mind had concocted had any such conversation with Severus Snape ever gone well and she certainly did not expect that it would considering what had happened that morning with Nigel.

Nigel. The little whelp made her skin crawl. He was particularly unpleasant and her feelings of that unpleasantness had very little to do with her jealousy toward him. She chased the lad quickly from her mind before her thoughts ran altogether poisonous. Before she had made her way to the end of the alley, the sky had opened up with a lovely chilly downpour and she found herself quickly drawing up an umbrella from the tip of her wand to keep herself dry. Hermione often preferred weather shield charms but parasol pop-up spells were coming back into style and she’d felt inclined to give it a try. But even a good magical parasol was no match for the chill of the rainfall and she found herself quickly ducking into Rosa Lee Teabag.

“Following me?” his voice made her jump though she bit her tongue to keep from shrieking out. Hermione laid eyes on Severus and her lips pinched into a frown. This seemed to make him smirk though only very briefly and she wondered for a moment if she’d caught some fevered frantic chill in the rain and had gone completely round the twist.

“Pay ‘im no mind, luv,” the voice of an unseen witch called. Hermione craned her neck to the corner of the tea shop where the register counter was and some three feet up on a wobbly one-legged ladder was a rather plump witch in full puffy robes. Hermione shook her head, not bothering to think on why the witch simply wouldn’t summon down whatever it was she was looking for up there. “That one likes to terrorize all me patrons,” she huffed. Rather unceremoniously, the witch descended the ladder at a rapid pace, landing on both of her boots with a hefty thump at the counter. “But ‘e pays, so ‘e stays,” she said and nodded at Severus, who was now standing at the counter.

Hermione looked warily between her housemate and the witch who was carefully binding a package of what she could only assume was tea in some fancy blue twine. “Right,” she said and then frowned at Severus. “How do I know you weren’t following me?” she asked, crossing her hands somewhat defensively over her chest.

The witch at the counter rolled her eyes before Severus could respond or Hermione could further her line of questioning. “I’m putting a kettle of Blue Bottle on, sort out your business, I don’t allow lover’s quarrels in me shop,” she huffed and turned her back on the two of them. “Take that rubbish to Puddifoot’s in ‘ogsmeade.” Without another word the witch walked straight through a stack of teapots and disappeared. Hermione gaped at the spot where she had previously been, only slightly astonished at the vanishing trick. Though she had mostly grown accustomed to magic and all it had to offer, there were still things— like the witch vanishing through the stack of teapots just then— that astounded her. But she was not given another moment to think on the marvel as Severus’ voice called her attention back to him.

“I did not follow you, I came in for a tincture,” he spoke clearly and deliberately. “Mershwinda keeps certain herbs that the apothecary does not.”

Hermione nodded somewhat dumbfounded. Then she shook her head as if clearing a mist from her brain and somehow came around to her senses. “You being here startled me is all,” she said and then moved to take a seat at the little cushion in the window. It was nook at best, but a cozy nook and she rather enjoyed the view of the cobblestoned street it presented to her, even if Diagon Alley was currently under a deluge of dreary gray rain. She tried not to stare as Severus stepped toward her and after a moment’s silent debate, settled down on the cushion beside her. They were not touching but the slightest shift from other of them would bring their bodies into contact. “Did you need something?” she asked, unsure what prompted him to settle himself beside her when there were several other chairs and cushions upon which he could have chosen to sit.

He could have remained standing at the counter, waiting for whatever else it was that the witch— he had called her Mershwinda— was to be providing him with before he departed the shop. Or he could have taken a seat at any one of the little table and chair configurations that were spread across the tiny teashop. There was even a rocker and a rug laid out in front of the small fireplace opposite the window where he could have situated himself but instead he had chosen to sit directly beside her on the cushion at the window. Hermione couldn’t make sense of this other than to assume that he wanted something. But when he simply gave a shrug of his shoulders she was flabbergasted. A silence ensued and she had to force herself to keep from plying him with conjecture.

When he did finally speak she once more found herself at odds with herself. “Testing the waters your way,” he said as if it were a simple comment on the rain outside. “I am most certain that I am still opposed, but without sufficient evidence…” he nodded and kept his face neutral, his features as impassive as ever. This served to spark annoyance in her but she said nothing. Was it all just a never-ending game to him? Were they back to this trial and error to see how far he could push her? He’d certainly pushed her quite far that morning, but was it still pushing if she’d given him permission? Hermione’s head was swimming with unanswered questions on the brink of overflowing through her mouth. This must have been plainly visible to Severus because he scoffed. “If it’s that unsettling…” he leaned forward and made to stand but her hands stopped him.

Severus tensed, eyes locking immediately on hers as she pressed both palms against the top of his thigh. Again they were both aware that she lacked the strength to physically hold him in place but the gesture was enough to halt his actions. They stared at one another, Severus slowly sinking back down into the cushion all the while her hands remaining across his lap. Little crackles of the fireplace echoed around the otherwise empty teashop and Hermione found herself unable to break her stare. She had nearly drowned in his eyes once before; doing so now would be no different. But every time she found herself locked in a heated gaze with him— for one reason or another— her body seemed to take it as the greenlight for arousal. She tried to very subtly press her thighs together, not wanting to make a scene in the teashop.

He noticed, though did not break their gaze either, allowing the faintest hint of a smirk to ghost over his lips before letting his features fall neutral once more. “You really ought to learn self-control,” he whispered, letting his lips lean just the slightest bit closer to her ear. Long delicate tendrils of his hair brushed her cheek and she shivered despite herself. It was infuriating that his mere presence, despite the perpetual emotional turmoil and upheaval he caused within her, could so readily set her body aflame with carnal lust to the point of being unable to control her own bodily responses. She fought the rising blush that was escaping up into her cheeks, desperate to maintain composure. When the wave of warmth, both in her cheeks and between her legs, seemed to have subsided, she allowed herself to gaze over at the fireplace before speaking, not trusting what her voice might sound like if she looked at him directly.

“George wants to start at half nine this evening. He’s sent an owl,” she said.

Severus nodded. She wasn’t sure why she had expected him to do something other than acknowledge what she’d said. It wasn’t as if he were the sort to protest, and even if he were, to do so over such a trivial thing like pushing back their starting time seemed rather frivolous. They sat in silence a moment longer before the stack of kettles clanged against one another and Mershwinda reappeared through them. Her eyes seemed to fall right to them and the witch grinned. “At least you’ve stopped your quarrelin’, though mind your hands, lassie, won’t be havin’ none o’ tha’ behavior in here.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t help herself. But before she could pull her hands back from his lap, Severus had placed both of his large palms down over the top of her delicate fingers, pressing them ever so gently into his thighs. “She’s a colleague, Mershwinda,” he said pointedly, his voice bold as if daring the witch to challenge him on the matter.

Mershwinda seemed to be the challenged sort and snorted. “Colleague my arse,” she muttered, though none too quietly. “I don’t right care if she’s your wife,” the witch paused, narrowing her eyes at Severus’ hands. “Though I don’t see no ring,” she shuffled over toward them. “Save that rubbish for Puddifoot’s,” she grumbled. “I won’t ‘ave it in ‘ere.” With a flick of the witch’s wand, a table scraped its way across the wooden floorboards of the shop and settled in front of them. Two more flicks brought a kettle, two cups with saucers, a tea service caddy, and two little plates to its top. “And you’ll have to mind that I’ve no fresh scones left, so sausage rolls it is,” she added sharply before flicking her wand once more, bringing forth from some unseen corner of the shop the aforementioned sausage rolls.

Severus rolled his eyes and picked up the kettle. “Blue Bottle,” he sniffed the air, making his words a questionable statement more than a definitive identification.

“Aye, I said that, ya lump,” she said and then shuffled back toward her counter. “I’ve nearly got the rest of your order bound up too. Can I pop to the back an’ finish it without you two causin’ trouble?”

Hermione’s face lit with scarlet though of the indignant shade. She was not some randy teenager popping into a teashop for a snog. It bothered her greatly that the witch was so brazen in her conjecture, even more so that she was entangled with Severus. Her mind was mocking her; didn’t she want to be entangled with Severus? Wasn’t a spot of afternoon tea in a teashop in Diagon Alley a delightful little outing for the two of them? Other thoughts crept into her mind, poisoning the pleasant ones. Thoughts of Nigel and how many muggle teashops or coffee houses he might have gone to with the lad, or how Severus would chastise her for making something out of nothing, after all he’d been in the teashop first and the proprietor had foisted tea upon them. For all Hermione knew, Severus had no intention of staying and having tea with her.

“Who is that woman?” she said with a gasp of exasperation. She calmed her nerves only when she realized the witch had vanished before she’d rather rudely announced her question aloud.

Severus had shifted over on the cushion slightly, their legs not touching, his hands no longer on hers, and somehow he’d removed her hands from his lap as well. She stared at him, watching as he picked up thistlemilk and dribbled three drops into an empty teacup before pouring a hearty splash of the steaming blue liquid into it. Little sapphire puffs of steam wafted up from the surface of the tea, dazzling her eye for a moment more. Hermione blinked several times and when she’d finally focused her mind, she noted that he’d inhaled his sausage roll and was casually sipping his tea as if it were something he did every day.

For all she knew it was something he did every day. Hermione, despite living with the man, and knowing a great many of his darker intimacies, knew precious little about the routine of his daily life. She wasn’t even sure what sort of tea it was that he was currently drinking, but supposed it to be something he could only procure in Rosa Lee’s teashop. “What sort—”

“Blue Bottle,” he said, taking a sip from the cup. “A potent brew of Australian Blue Bottle jelly nettles combined with sapphire dust among other things,” he nodded to the kettle. “The thistlemilk cuts the sweetness,” he added.

Hermione wasn’t particularly keen on overly sweet things. Having grown up with dentists for parents, sugar was not a part of her every day routine. But thistlemilk was vile and bitter best she could recall and she did not relish the idea of something so bitter tainting her tea even if it meant that the tea would be a tad too sweet. Her puzzled look belayed her conundrum because his teacup appeared just beneath her nose, held there with a waiting expression of mild annoyance on his face. She let her lips press against the rim and took the tiniest sip. It was enough to determine that she would have only one drop of thistlemilk to the steamy blue concoction, if she had any of the tea at all. “What’s it for?” she asked, carefully picking up the thistlemilk and dribbling exactly one drop into her teacup. When she poured the kettle there were fewer dabs of steam rising from its sapphire surface but Hermione did not mind.

“Potency,” he said.

Hermione’s brow crinkled. She stared into the teacup. “Potency?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Not something I keep in ready supply, I’ve no need. But between the workshop and your general insatiability, I find it to be quite the balm on my all but sapped energy reserves.”

“Oh!” she cried, nearly spilling her tea as she realized exactly what he meant. Hermione was about to bite her lower lip but his stern gaze made her think better of it. He was breaking her of the habit little by little and she made a mental note to thank him for it later. She stared down into her teacup once more. Hermione had never been fond of taking potions, not even for the simplest of things like fatigue or cramps. She tried not to think about how her magical awakening had given her the worst cramps she’d ever experienced in her life. Because that line of thinking sent her down a path of memories that were inappropriate at best.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to drink it.” The way he let his sentence hang in the air made her believe that he was about to address her, but after their row about how to address her, he seemed to think better of it. She tried not to read too much into it. She was the queen of overthinking and overanalyzing and it had never worked out well for her.

But she was given time to mull it over in her mind, not just his suggestion that she drink the tea but him on the whole. Mershwinda had returned with a strangely bundled package and Severus stood to meet her at the counter. Hermione hadn’t even touched her sausage roll, though she really wasn’t hungry. Her stomach seemed to say otherwise as it growled softly. She sighed quietly, picked it up and took a bite. There was no reason to be suspicious of the sausage roll, it was just a lunchtime pasty as far as she could tell, but that hadn’t stopped her from hesitating. Three quick bites had vanished the roll and she found, regrettably, that she was still quite peckish. Severus had finished at the counter with Mershwinda and she found herself staring longingly in his general direction.

He caught her eye as he turned toward the door, a slender eyebrow arching up onto his forehead. “Did you need something?” he asked, voice even and low.

She pursed her lips. The entire encounter had been strange. But strange had been par for the course as far as they were concerned. She wasn’t entirely convinced that she hadn’t slipped in the downpour and smacked her head upon the cobblestone and that this was all some elaborate hallucination from her unconscious, concussed mind. Hermione shook her head after a moment. “No, Severus,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tonight.”

A curt nod of his head was all she received in response before he disappeared through the shop door. His boots hardly touched the cobblestone before he vanished with the resonating crack that accompanied apparition, though the sound was lost to her ears between the rain and door to the teashop swinging shut. Hermione sighed. She wasn’t particularly keen on remaining in the teashop with Mershwinda, especially not after the witch had accused her and Severus of being lovers. Though there was some truth to her accusation, Hermione supposed. It was more than just two people working together in a sexual environment, that had been proven by several incidences at Spinners End. And it wasn’t simply a case of friends with benefits, as that would have implied that they were in fact friends, which she was not certain was a word anyone would use when describing their involvement with Severus Snape, and that there was some benefit to engaging in the way that they did. Aside from the physical release, which she found to be thoroughly enjoyable and assumed with good reason that he did as well, she could not identify what sort of benefits came with their vexingly convoluted entanglement.

Before Mershwinda could strike up a conversation, Hermione thought it best to settle her tab with the witch and be on her way. It should not have come as a surprise to her when the witch said Severus had paid up the tab and that she owned nothing. There again was evidence of strangely inexplicable behavior from him. Then again she could have simply been overanalyzing and it was nothing more than a simple old-world kindness. Hermione longed to clear her head; even the outing for tea had given her a headache. But she wasn’t going to head back to Spinner’s End, even if he was locked away in his room or down in the lab, she didn’t trust herself not to go engaging with him in one way or another. And going to The Burrow was out of the question, even though she’d told George she thought that was where she was going to head off to.

Before long Hermione found herself tucked outside of the joke shop, just as George was shutting up for the evening. It had been a strange request, though he’d been in such a hurry to race off and meet his mystery date— she presumed he knew who he was meeting only that he wasn’t letting on to her who it was— that he’d hardly noticed how odd a request it was, to stay up in the workshop for a bit until he returned. Though she was unlikely to find peace of mind there, it at the very least was not the place she shared with Severus. The workshop should have been eerily quiet to her; Hermione had never been one for total silence unless she was studying. But in that moment she had enough conflicting thoughts to put Hogwarts, A History to shame as far as density went.

But all the time in the universe wouldn’t have been enough to work out her tangle of feelings as they disrupted her thoughts. And before she realized that time had even passed, she heard footfalls on the stairs that led up to the workshop. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when George waltzed into the room. She was not looking forward to encountering Severus alone. She forced her mind to settle somewhat; it would do no good to show distraction to George as he would only start asking questions. Though given the way he was grinning at present, she wasn’t sure that he was in the right frame of mind to be prodding and plodding about through the business of anyone else.

“How was your drink?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he smiled. “Oh. Oh! Yes— well…” his cheeks filled with a red that was ready to match his hair. “There was a drink…and then there was a walk…and then there was—”

“Nope. Thank you, but no, George,” she said shaking her head. “Whatever you got up to after the walk I simply do not need to know.”

“Indeed,” Severus’ voice drawled. It startled Hermione, causing her to jolt forward ever so slightly, simply because she hadn’t seen him slip into the workshop and yet there he was standing just a few hundred yards in front of her. “Miss Granger,” he nodded. “Mr. Weasley.”

Even Severus’ curt and formal greeting could not dissolve the perky grin from George’s face. Hermione was at the very least pleased that one of them was having a delighted evening. Though she supposed, but refused to linger on that thought too much, that Severus could also have had a delightful evening with whatever it was that he had gotten up to after they’d parted ways in the peculiar little tea shop. It made her head spin to think about just what a delightful evening might entail for him. Before she’d learned of Nigel— though blessed at the moment the grating little chit appeared to be out of the picture— she might have presumed a pleasant evening for her former professor involved reading or simply being alone with his thoughts. Knowing him intimately as she did, and what he got up to intimately with individuals that were not herself, gave her pause.

“What have you this evening, George?” she asked in haste, wanting any sort of distraction from her own cruel mind.

“Ah,” he said, her question seeming to draw him out of his own personal reverie and into the present moment. “Something rather ingenious, if it works, naturally,” he said. “Or at least I think so…we shall see!”

That made Hermione nervous. Not so much the ingenious bit but the part where he said if it works. Not only did that leave room for the possibility that the product was a dud but it also meant that the product could go horribly wrong. For a moment she flashed back to the red fiery water bubbles and shuddered. But George was on the move across the workshop to the bed station he’d created; he gestured for them to follow, muttering on about how he’d read the description for this particular product several times over but it had taken him days to locate the actual thing, and he’d nearly given up on it being an actual finished product rather than just a half-formulated idea that Fred had scribbled in the ledger.

Without much thought behind it, she was already undoing her jumper, stepping out of her clothes with her arms sliding back into the dressing robe that she so often used in the workshop. It wasn’t until she was fixing the tie at her waist that she realized that Severus had held the garment while she slipped into it. She looked back over her shoulder at him but he had turned from her and was slipping into his own workshop robe. It was little things like that which made her head spin right round. Why would he do such a thing? Had it become a habit? Was he affording her a kindness? Was this his reciprocation of kindness? There was no way of telling. But she wasn’t allowed to think on it long before George was standing directly in front of her.  
“Have a look at these.”

In his hand was a small box covered in black velvet. It almost looked like a cigar box or a box in which one might store tea sachets. When he pulled the lid up, there were six small compartments, three stacked atop three, with each compartment holding what appeared to be a single square of parchment. The three across the top were colored, one blue, one green, and one black. So too were the three across the bottom only they were pink, purple, and some curiously blended shade caught halfway between pink and purple. Like many things inside the workshop, they looked ordinary, innocuous even. But Hermione knew better. She didn’t chance a look at Severus, who was standing just behind her, his gentle breath brushing ever so slightly against the back of her neck.

“Alright, what are they?” she said after a moment.

The grin that spread across George’s face was almost frightening. “He’s got them listed in the ledger as Love Tunnels.” It took him just a moment to retrieve the ledger, flipping frantically through the pages to the one he’d dog-eared down to mark the product. It was an elaborate full-colored diagram with notes scribbled absolutely everywhere. Hermione’s eyes took in the page, trying not to twist her head about too much to read Fred’s miserable handwriting in the various directions in which it was sprawled. She could feel the ends of Severus’ hair brush ever so slightly against the side of her neck as he leaned his head over her shoulder and peered into the ledger. She held her breath.

“When inserted into the vaginal cavity…or the anus…though it doesn’t really indicate if there’s a preference or if one should be used specifically and only for one cavity or the other…anyway! They— well, it sounds a bit weird— but they sort of— absorb? Yeah, absorb into the wall like and create a texture. Some of them create movement too!” George gushed.

“Presumably for an enhanced sexual experience,” said Severus coolly.

His voice, despite its cold and clinical detachment, still sent shivers up her spine. There was no denying that she had developed an uncontrollable attraction to the man, which was further fueled and fed by her emotional entanglement. She forced herself to stare hard at the product in George’s hand. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts, she chanted to herself. But her mind insisted was willfully disobedient. Of course, it was nearly impossible to think of anything that was not sexy about Severus. And it didn’t help matters that the product they were about to test was going to involve full blown penetration. Already she could feel her core beginning to heat. Hermione refused to blush, he was sure given comments he’d made in the past that he could already smell her arousal. She was grateful that George did not have so keenly tuned a nose when it came to such things.

“Right then, so erm…should I…?” she gestured to the bed. Given that she did not have any way to discern what it might feel like if it were inserted into his anus, she figured she would be the one being ravished. It only occurred to her for the briefest of moments that she was still adjusting to the size of him when it came to penetrating her back entrance.

“Yes, go ahead, Hermione,” said George, picking up his quill and beginning to make notations. “I endeavor to get through all six of them tonight, if you two think you can manage. We can pause or switch to something else between to give you both a rest should we need it. And I’ve got the Lustipops nearby…” he trailed off, absent-mindedly scribbling in the ledger. “I’m still trying to work out what is what,” he muttered. “These notes are impossible.”

She spared a quick at Severus, as covertly as possible, but he had taken great interest in leaning over George’s shoulder, attempting to study the ledger. She did not sigh. She would not sigh. It was her own stupid fault for chancing to look at him. And what had she been hoping for? A glance from him? A meeting of their eyes where their gazes would lock and she’d be further vexed and perplexed? It didn’t matter; it hadn’t happened. Hermione hopped onto the bed and laid back. She contemplated whether or not to undo her robe, whether or not to take it off entirely. They did rather heat up when they got going, and as this particular type of product was certainly going to get them going, she decided it would be best to take it off completely. Hermione slipped her arms out of the robe, wriggling around on the mattress, leaving the garment beneath her.

No sooner had she done so then did Severus appear hovering over her. She caught the briefest glimpse of something in his eye but before she could attempt to analyze it or even fully take it in, George was upon them and their attentions were both pulled to him. Hermione tried not to grunt in frustration. Every time she thought she was getting a glimpse into whatever it was he was harboring in his eyes, their work had an uncanny knack of interrupting. Though she somewhat suspected that he knew that and allowed her just a hint of puzzled pondering or enigmatic emotion, knowing full well that she would not be able to think on it for long.

“Right, so I think we’ll start with the bottom row…judging from Fred’s sense of gender assignation…the pink and purple ones are most likely meant to be inserted vaginally.”

Hermione raised her head up long enough to see Severus delicately lift the pink square of parchment from its slot in the box. She tried not to focus on the way he fondled it between his fingers; his elegant digits rubbed over and under it as she had so often felt them rubbing over and under her skin. She shivered.

“Are you cold, Hermione? I did have a chilling charm earlier but it’s been ages and should have warmed up by now,” George frowned, reaching for his wand.

Severus shook his head. “No need, Mr. Weasley,” he said and with a short, curt snap of his fingers, the room warmed considerably.

She said nothing. Her tongue was not to be trusted at the best of times. But already her body was heated and adding the heating charm to the room would have her perspiring in no time and no doubt thrashing and bucking about as he plunged his cock into her with this latest product. Hermione refused to look at him, knowing that the faintest hint of a smirk would be tugging at the corner of his lips. He was still playing games. Perhaps it was all he knew how to do; she wasn’t much better only instead of games she wielded uncontrolled emotional outbursts as her weapon of choice.

“Knees up,” his rich voice rumbled and this time she resisted the shiver that threatened to tear through her body. She had only just bent her knees, parting her legs to allow him access to her sex when his right hand pressed against the inside of her thigh, his thumb deliberately brushing against her slit.

“I’ve got a bit of basic lubricant if she needs—” George stopped when Severus shook his head.

“No need, Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling her eyelashes flutter together. Damn him and his unyielding ability to make even the dullest of words sound sultry. It was no wonder her body was always ripe, wet and waiting, whenever he came near to her. She shifted her hips down, pushing her sex into his hand just the slightest bit more, uncertain as to what to expect even if she was dripping with need for him. It wasn’t natural to be so turned on, to have one’s own body betray them so thoroughly around one individual, though betrayal was less and less the appropriate word. But she couldn’t think on that, not as he was prying her lips apart, casually stroking his long, slender index finger up and down her slit.

Her eyes met his; his eyes smoldered down into hers. She’d expected him to be staring at her lips, to be concentrating on pushing this pink square into her wet and waiting entrance. It caused her breath to hitch; this unexpected meeting of eyes, and in that moment she felt his fingers push forward, sliding into her with the little pink square tucked between them. Hermione whimpered. His fingers filled her, just two of his luxurious digits pushed but halfway into her heated channel and already she was clenched, desperate with need, craving more. It was dizzying, all the more so when she thought about how thick and full his cock felt by comparison; it was only a matter of moments before she’d feel that. Hermione’s body responded in kind, her walls pulsing with anticipation.

“Can you feel anything?” George asked. His voice sounded distant though she knew he was seated with ledger in hand just off the side of the bed.

“Yes…” she hissed, trying to control her exhale.

Severus leaned over her. The long, silky fine strands of his hair brushed against her cheek, tickling her heightened skin. “He means the product, not my fingers filling your cunt.”

It was whispered; the way the words curled from his lips as if they were intended only for her right ear, and she groaned. She couldn’t help herself. She saw the smirk on his lips; it faded as quickly as she’d seen it, but it was there. Hermione closed her eyes hard, trying to regain semblance of consciousness. She had to do better when it came to maintaining her self-control. There were six of those little sleeves George called “Love Tunnels” and he’d only just inserted the first one with his fingers, nevermind all the fucking that would ensue.

“I feel…” she panted slightly. “I…” Hermione controlled her breath. “It’s normal, George. I mean he’s— ooh…oh!” she cried. He had pulled his fingers back, a most disappointing sensation but that wasn’t what had caused her to cry out. All at once there was a great squeezing, a tightening pressure inside of her that was teetering of the border of painful pleasure, falling just over the edge into the painful category. She whimpered once more and tried rolling her hips as if that could somehow help her escape the building pressure. And then it stopped entirely.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice rushed but not entirely alarmed.

Hermione bit her lower lip, but quickly released the petal from her teeth. “I…yes? I think so.” She frowned. “There was an incredible amount of pressure, as if someone were filling me like a water balloon. I felt fit to burst and then it just— stopped.” She didn’t feel in the least bit good about it; there was no doubt more yet to come.

“Right,” said George, furiously scribbling away in the ledger. Though she noted with some levity that his ink-flinging technique had improved as their time in the workshop had continued. George seemed now to only smatter ink droplets directly onto his cheeks, blending into his freckles. “Do you feel alright to have him road test it then?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, glancing up at Severus. She hadn’t thought to see if he’d prepared himself, but was not surprised when he placed both hands onto the side of her hips and pulled her forward. There was no preamble or hesitation; a swift hard push and he’d thrust himself into her, gasping as he did. Though he’d become somewhat more vocally loose with her in their private entanglements at Spinner’s End, he was still stolid and reserved to the best of his capabilities when they were together in George’s presence in the workshop. So for him to make such an audible gasp meant he was feeling something even he couldn’t fight. She wanted to grin, even chuckle quietly, but the sensation of his filling her was exquisite, intense and satisfying; all she could manage to do was groan.

“What’s it feel like?” he heard George ask, noting as she let her head roll to the side, how intently George gazed up and down Severus’ spine. It was hot enough inside the workshop, doubly so now that her body was blazing on fire with his cock buried to the painfully pleasurable hilt in her core, but watching George lust silently over the man who was fucking her was a bit too much. She could feel little rivulets of sweat trickling down her temple. The velvety heat of his tongue caressed the side of her temple and she squealed; the entire gesture hidden by the dark cascade of hair that fell from his head around her face.

“Severus?” George said, his own voice ever so slightly pinched.

“It is a pulsation,” he ground out through pinched lips. “Like little dots pulsing all over her walls,” he strained.

Hermione found this to be astonishing as she could feel nothing more than the delicious sensation of his cock filling her, and he hadn’t even moved. She’d also felt his tongue, catching the bit of sweat as it ran down the side of her temple and that had thrilled her to no end, embarrassed as she was to admit it. She could hear George again, though concentrating on his words was becoming somewhat of a strain. He was asking if it was tight. She felt no fuller than usual, though Severus was a lengthy, thick, man. She’d had precious little to compare him to, but knew full well that he filled her more than anyone else ever had and that his size was beyond that of what was considered average. She wriggled her hips and was rewardingly punished with both of his hands digging into her flesh, pushing her pelvis down. “Don’t,” he hissed, eyes twisted shut tight. He was struggling to maintain his composure.

“Severus? Is it— ”

“I heard you,” he panted, “The first time, Mr. Weasley.” Severus was drawing in hard, thick breaths through his nose, trying to keep perfectly still. “It is extremely tight,” he said, again through terse breath. “Combined with the pulsation even a well-trained tantric wizard would struggle not to blow his load.”

“Extraordinary,” George murmured.

Hermione was in awe. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling but never before had she seen him trying so hard to keep himself composed. And not only composed, but apparently he was desperately restraining himself to keep from ejaculating. Her mind, though still fuzzy with lust, desire, and need, was firing rapidly, ascertaining quickly that it was some sort of pride to which he was desperately clinging. They had the Lustipops that could recharge him with a few simple licks so he could go again and again. He’d had a tea designed to increase stamina and potency just that afternoon. So there was no other logical reason, save for pride and appearances, to struggle so vehemently against something so arousing and natural.

Severus’ fingers were still dug into her hips, forcing her pelvis down into the mattress. But Hermione was determined to get one up on him in that moment. With a subtle swivel of her hips, wriggling just slightly from side to side, she began to clench and unclench her pelvic floor with as much control as she could muster, which admittedly wasn’t very much. But it was enough. He growled; Severus pitched his torso over her, burying his face into the mattress beside her neck, the fabric and cushioning swallowing most of his audible carnal lust as he came. A surge of heated cum erupted inside of her and she quaked at his orgasm, triggering a minor one of her own. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his back, but he was too overcome in the throes of ecstasy to shake her off.

“Wow!” George said and had either of them been capable of looking in his direction they would have seen a blush fit to match his hair flooded all through his cheeks. “Wow, wow, wow! Just think…if that can be modified just a bit to keep from bringing about that sort of ending too soon…” and he was off to the races once more scribbling in the ledger. “Take a minute,” he said between frantic swipes with his quill. “And detangle…breathe and whatnot…and if you’re both alright, we’ll try the next one in a sec.”

Hermione could hear the scraping of the stool against the wooden floorboards. George’s racing footsteps quickly followed as they ascended the stairs to his flat, and the echo of a slamming door completed his hasty retreat from the workshop. She wasn’t nearly half as spent as Severus so laughing just slightly at George’s breakneck departure felt good. She knew he’d only need a minute to wank himself off, but was grateful that he’d left her alone with Severus.

She could feel the strands of his hair clinging to the side of her neck and face. Hermione stroked her hands up and down his spine. After just a moment of doing this, she felt his body stiffen and tense. And without warning, he pulled back from her, withdrawing himself from her entirely. She shuddered and gasped at the sudden loss of contact, though it was not as chilly as she had expected. “Are you—”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t get snappy with me, Severus. I can’t help it if the product—”

Her words were lost in a most inexplicable fashion as he lips all but swallowed hers. Hermione couldn’t breathe. She was trapped in a kiss, his tongue assailing her mouth and it terrified her and thrilled her. It was a lifetime of passion wound up in a flash of lightening and just as it had started, it stopped, and he pulled away, glaring at her. She looked stricken, parting her lips to speak once more, but this time two fingers landed harshly against them. “I said don’t.”

“You can’t tell me when and how and what to speak,” she tried, her words mangling as he pressed his fingers more firmly into her lips. “Stop it, Severus.”

He glared at her. “Miss Granger—” and then he let loose a heavy sigh. “Just give it a rest, please?” he said very quietly, letting his fingers fall slowly from her lips, trailing them gently down the front of her chin and away from her face entirely. “I’ve not the strength, despite the tea, to put up with your… just…please…” he said.

Hermione was so Gobsmacked that she simply stared at him. This was unheard of. And she didn’t know what to make of it. Half of her was convinced it was some ploy; he would pretend to concede the upper hand only to snatch it back some moments later when he had her in a more compromising position. And yet there was another part of her that was frightened by the sincerity of it. She didn’t know what to make of it. It vexed her more than anything presently. Losing his physical composure in the workshop was at times inevitable, and despite that he’d always kept his distance once the product’s effects had worn off or they’d paused from their testing. But this was something entirely different and new. She couldn’t help but think about the way they’d spent the morning; the fight she’d witnessed, the fucking in the shower, the strange encounter over tea. It boggled her mind, all of that, but not as severely as his sudden pleading did.

She hung her head after a second and nodded. “Sorry,” she muttered.

It was too complex to think further upon; his calling a sudden halt to these extremely trying games for reasons unbeknownst to her was maddening. Was he truly calling a ceasefire or was this yet another ploy and tactic? Or was she reading far too much into it? Her mind whirled. Did she read too much into things as he said? Or did he say that to make her think she read too much into things because he had to keep her off-balance because she was right about a whole host of things when it came to him and his feelings?

Tentatively, she reached a trembling hand forward as she shifted to sit up. He was seated at the edge of the bed, legs swung over the side, with his robe draped over him, the lapels open. It took her body a moment to sit up fully, swinging her own legs over the side until she sat beside him. He did not flinch nor move when she did, and she pressed her luck just a bit, placing that same trembling hand on the top of his thigh. He stiffened, almost imperceptivity, but she noticed it.

“I couldn’t feel anything different,” she said.

He nodded. “Indeed.”

They sat for a long moment in silence. Her mind was racing and she assumed his was too. It seemed to be taking George ever so slightly longer than usual to finish his business upstairs in the flat, but for that she was grateful. It gave her a moment to just sit beside him, hand resting atop his thigh. The room was warm but that did not negate her general desire to let her head fall against his shoulder and cuddle against him. Hermione resisted that urge, knowing full well it would earn her some sort of negative response. It shocked her further still when the heaviness of his own hand landed atop hers and for a moment she expected him to pluck up her fingers and push her off. But he did not. Severus rested his hand atop hers, staring straight ahead, silent.

The door to the flat flew open with a clumsy bang. It startled her and she jumped a bit, surprised that he did not immediately jerk his hand back from hers. George’s feet were coming down the stairs and it was only when she heard him land on the floorboards of the workshop that Severus lifted his hand and stood from the bed’s edge. “If there are five more of these so-called Love Tunnels, I think it best if we alternate between them and another product, particularly if each one is going to be as intense or potentially more intense than the first one,” Severus said simply. Once again his facial features were unreadable, his voice neutral, as if nothing had just happened.

And perhaps nothing had happened. He’d placed his hand over hers when she’d touched his thigh. So what? He’d called a ceasefire with their little mind games. Big deal. Perhaps it was nothing. But to Hermione it was everything. “Yes, George,” she said, surprising herself as she joined the conversation. “Severus is right. What else do you have that we can fiddle with in-between Love Tunnels?”

For a moment George looked dumbfounded. “Ah. Right. Um… hang on,” he said and then dashed somewhat idiotically across the room to a large cabinet. “I had all but given up on these, thinking they were a bit silly and really a waste of time…but actually…given the need for a bit of a break…I think they’re perfect,” he shouted back. A moment later he stood in front of them holding a pair of what looked like wands.

“What are those?” Hermione asked.

“Wands,” said George.

Severus rolled his eyes with the tiniest snort. “We can see that, Mr. Weasley…”

George turned slightly pink in the cheeks but laughed all the same. “Magic wands.” This caused him to flush harder. “Sexy magic wands?” He rolled his eyes and groaned. “They’re enchanted— oh sod it— here.” He thrust a wand forward waiting for each of them to take it. “Fred and I made loads of these when we were running the joke shop by paper forum out of Gryffindor Tower…only not with this sort of enchantment…”

“Oh— wait a minute— I think I remember that. The dueling duelers, right?” she said with a strange grin crossing her lips. “But George, they were dueling wands, weren’t they?”

“Yes, Hermione. But they weren’t ordinary wands. I mean they were ordinary wands, broken ones mostly that we half-pinched half-bargained from Ollivander—” he paused, and thought better of it. “Nevermind where they came from. Fred and I spent ages working out how to enchant them with a specific set of enchantments. Like those training wands for pre-firsties, you know? When you’re trying to get basic practice in but you don’t want your kiddo to be able to do any real damage?’

Hermione had heard of such things, having read about them in various textbooks, but as she had grown up in a muggle household, she had never had one of her own. “Yes, I think I know what you mean,” she said.

“Right, so, instead of just your basic enchantments we loaded those up with dueling spells only more random like. You never knew what was going to come out of the end— nothing too dangerous of course— really leveled the playing field when it came to dueling. Plus these were more friendly like, so you could have it out with a mate if need be and not do any real damage.”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, having redressed and closed his robe properly upon standing. “To your point, Mr. Weasley. What have those got to do with these?” he had not taken a wand despite George’s still holding one out to him.

“Well these are those! Sort of. I mean, same principal, only I tweaked them up to be loaded with…erm…sexy spells.” He blushed.

“Sexy spells,” Severus said.

“Er…yeah…so it’s like having blind dueling capabilities only…sexy…” the more he spoke, the redder his face became.

“I think I see what you mean, George,” Hermione said, trying to help alleviate some of the mounting tension from Severus’ frustration. “But for the life of me I can’t think of any sexy spells that you could have possibly enchanted them with…I mean maybe a tickling curse or some such…”

George chortled. ‘Guess that’ll be part of the fun for you when you try them out.” He pushed the wands forward once more. Hermione took hers, as did Severus, though with much more reluctance. “There isn’t anything dangerous in them, but I think it might be best if you two… wait a minute,” he said and then drew his own wand, pointing it at the mattress. “Wingardium Leviosa.” A simple levitation spell had the mattress floating up and over to a large cleared space of the workshop. George guided it down and then swished his wand about again “Engorgio.”

Hermione watched with curious surprise as the mattress grew nearly double and then triple in size. It looked large enough to accommodate a family of giants. She bit her lower lip, but again quickly released it, hardly aware that it had been all of Severus’ chastising about that particular behavior that was having her react that way. “Erm…” she started.

“In case anyone falls off balance or a spell triggers…well… I don’t know… just in case,” George grinned.

“Should we just get on the mattress then?” she asked, sounding slightly more nervous than she intended.

“Yes, but get dressed first. No, not your robes, your street clothes please, bra and panties and boxers and all that if you please,” George seemed quite pleased with himself as he picked up the ledger. “Won’t be much fun if a certain disrobing spell is fired and you’re only wearing one garment.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought about disrobing spells. But Severus was already moving over to where their clothes were hung and had all but laced up his boots by the time she’d joined him. It took a moment but she’d stepped back into her knickers and jeans, her bra, and sweater, her socks, and shoes. She wondered if that was all really necessary, but moved to stand across from Severus all the same. She noted that he took several deliberately large paces back across the mattress. Rolling her eyes, she did the same; the proper dueling distance now rested between them. She stood with the enchanted wand in her hand, though Severus was in formation, brandishing his ready to fire it.

And fire it he did. Without word or wave, just a simple flick of his wrist and a bolt of hot blue light fizzled out of the tip of his wand, hurling through the air at Hermione. It smacked her square in the chest before she could fully register she’d been fired at and immediately she felt its effect. There were hands paddling her backside. Palms firmly slapping at her ass through her jeans and her knickers. Seven, eight, nine, ten, the slaps were rhythmic and she squealed, jumping, and nearly pitching forward. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried, unable to catch her balance as the unseen hands slapped her arse once more. They were firm, commanding slaps, much like the slaps he’d given her when he had attempted to train her in the art of whips and such in his home.

“Ooh! Ow! Oh!” she cried, wriggling about. Haphazardly she flicked the wand, her wrist snapping against the air hard, but as she did, she was slapped again and the bolt of shimmering red light flew off course and hit the wall of the workshop. “Damnit!” she cried.

Severus took no heed in her missed shot and with extreme control flicked the wand again, the same crisp movement, the same precision. Three violet sparks burst from the wand-tip and leapt through the air, swishing forward into Hermione’s hair. As they made contact with her locks, the slapping on her arse ceased. But she hadn’t a moment to gain her balance before strong, firm, fingers were tugging through her hair, raking invisible nails against her scalp. “Oooh! Oh!” she cried. Her hair had come loose from its elastic and was falling all around her face, being tugged this way and that, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to give her trouble in maintaining upright. She pitched forward, falling ino the mattress onto her knees.

“This is bloody brilliant,” George snickered, once again scribbling in awe into his ledger.

Hermione flapped her arm about, a stream of bubbles erupting from the tip of the wand, several of which flew in Severus’ direction, most of which missed him entirely. The one lone bubble that did graze the side of his jaw seemed to have quite the effect on him. She watched, through tangles of her hair being tugged about, as prints of lipstick began to form all over his jawline; it appeared his was being kissed, and from the looks of it, quite sensually as his knees trembled slightly under the pressure of the curse.

She was transfixed, staring at the invisible lips kissing his jawline, leaving shimmering lipstick prints for but a moment upon his skin before they vanished, and the sensation of nails raking over her scalp had her completely disoriented. So distracted was she that Hermione did not see Severus deftly flick his wand in her direction once more. She squealed when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, blinking furiously to see who had attacked her. The hands in her hair ceased, and a new pair of invisible hands was tugging and tearing at her blouse, ripping it open straight down the middle, exposing her heaving chest to the elements of the room.

Waving her wrist frantically, half in an attempt to push the invisible hands away, which were now tugging at the straps of her bra, and half in an attempt to fire off a curse of her own, Hermione flipped the wand toward Severus. A green stream of water flew from its tip but missed him entirely, splashing against the mattress and then vanishing in a puff of equally green smoke. “Urgh!” she cried. “This isn’t fair!” The weight of the invisible hands had pushed her back some, forcing her heels up into her calves as she bent with the pressure of her bra being pried off. “Damnit! Urgh!”

She heard George chuckling. “You’re terrible at dueling, Hermione. Go on! Do better!”

But she hadn’t the time to holler at George or do as he’d commanded because yet another spell was firing out of Severus’ enchanted wand. Silver strands were tangling around her arms and she prepared for kisses or slaps but gasped when they threaded themselves around her wrists, hoisting her arms up over her head. The wand slipped from her fingers as the silver threads bound her wrists together, holding her arms in the air.

George roared with laughter. “Finish her, Severus! Finish her!”

There was another deft flick of his wand. Three flicks to be exact, and a series of colored sparks— first gold, then red, and finally white— sped forth from its tip. The gold ones hit her first, tingling over her jeans, spreading up and down her legs. Her remaining clothing dissolved. She shrieked, feeling how suddenly naked she was but before she could struggle or protest, the red sparks crashed her against her exposed nipples and she groaned, feeling as if someone had suddenly started nipping and licking at her breasts. “Fuck,” she cried.

She could see Severus taking cautious steps toward her as the white bolt hit, slithering up around her hair, gathering it up and securing it in place. She was trussed and half-bound, with her hair tied back in a knot against the top of her head, her wrists still bound together above her head, completely in the nude with her nipples being assailed. “Please! Please…” she panted, tossing back and forth, trying to be freed from everything at once and having no success whatever in her pursuit.

George was laughing so hard that he nearly pitched from the stool. “Good gods,” he roared. “That’s bloody brilliant.”

“Finite incantatem,” Severus muttered and Hermione collapsed to the mattress. Or she would have except for his arms falling around her and pulling her up to her feet. Somehow as he’d trekked across the mattress, he’d retrieved her robe and was slipping her arms into the sleeves as he held her upright. “Learn to duel better,” he whispered and then gently undid the tangled knot which the spell had left in her hair. Her body was on edge, still trembling and shaking, but she remained upright, staring at Severus.

“That’s so perfect,” he said. “I wish your aim was better, Hermione. Would have loved to have seen a few more of those work, though there will be more time for that,” he chuckled.

“Is each wand loaded with the same set of random spells and curses?” Severus asked.

“No and I’ve no idea which one has what,” he said truthfully. “I set about a dozen or so into each one. That seemed to be the limit without the wand’s core exploding…though they do both have disrobing spells…and similar attributes, like both have some sort of binding spell…” he looked down in his ledger. “And I think with some refinement I could do a series…for beginners…for bondage….so on…”

“Marketable, most certainly,” said Severus. “Are you alright, Miss Granger?”

Hermione just nodded. It hadn’t been unpleasant or painful. It had been a burn to her pride that she had failed so miserably at dueling. She had never been one for dueling, even when they’d practiced for The Order. She made a mental note to try harder when they had a go after the second round of the Love Tunnels.

“Right. So if that was enough of a break…Severus, how about trying the green one from that box? But the green one should slip over you instead of into her.”

Hermione frowned. She stepped quickly off the mattress as she saw George brandish his wand, shrinking it back to its original size before moving it back over to where it was normally. She didn’t look to see if Severus was taking the Lustipop to prepare himself, though she assumed he was. She waited. But it only took him a moment to approach the bed, once more in his own robe. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly he changed in and out of his garments. In his hand he held the green Love Tunnel, which did indeed look ever so slightly more like a tunnel, though still paper thin.

She glanced casually down between his legs to see him sporting an erection, though it was not as hard and firm as she’d seen him previously. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes belaying her concern. She received a hard stare and immediately blushed. “I’m fine, Miss Granger,” he muttered, before carefully sliding the green paper-thin tube over his shaft. “Damn,” he hissed, as the tube all but melted into his skin. It thankfully did not turn his shaft green; Hermione was not sure she could cope with staring at a rich, emerald green cock before having it thrust inside of her.

Severus grunted and Hermione stared at him, eyes trailing down to his cock, which was now standing much more fully at attention. Though it was covered, and alarmingly so, in little spikes of flesh. Hermione gasped. “Oh dear…” she shuddered. “That looks—”

“Well fuck me,” said George in awe. He’d come to stand beside them both, gazing quite closely at Severus’ cock, which for all intents and purposes appeared to be covered in fleshy spikes, the way a textured dildo might look.

“Decidedly not,” Severus muttered, much to Hermione’s astonishment. She tried not to snort. But George seemed to take no notice of the comment, too transfixed by the altered appearance of Severus’ manhood to hear him. “Take a picture, Mr. Weasley, it will last longer,” he muttered and then nodded to Hermione. “Are you sufficiently lubricated?” he asked.

It was her turn to blush. She was still somewhat sticky between her legs, all of the nipping and licking at her nipples from the duel had riled her up somewhat, but she wasn’t sure she was at all prepared for a throbbing cock covered in fleshy spikes. “I…er…yes? I…yes,” she stumbled over her words and scooted hastily back onto the mattress.

Severus crawled over her, at once bringing his hand down between her legs. She sighed, her voice filled with lust, as he stroked her, gently manipulating her folds, prodding and stroking her lips, lazily flicking at her clit. “Yes…I… yes, Severus…” she whispered. She knew he was checking to be sure she was ready; she needed to not read more into it than that. But she couldn’t help herself. Hermione relaxed, her body wound up, ready for his cock, regardless if it was coated in fleshy spikes. There was a slight hesitation this time, the bulbous head of his manhood, nudging gently at her entrance before pushing slowly in. “Oooooh,” she moaned, feeling her whole body tense with pleasure.

He began to thrust, slowly and rhythmically in and out of her, careful with his motions. Hermione was moaning and mewling, arching her hips up and all but begging him to go faster. “It does not have any added sensation on my end,” he said rather flatly, though she noted he was once again gritting his teeth. She had heard him say dozens of times that it was still sex, she was still tight, and wetter than most anything he’d ever encountered, and that it still tested his resolve to fuck her.

“Oooh…” she whimpered once more. “Feels like…aaah…fuck…yessss….” She hissed as he pushed into her more firmly. “It’s on…yes…g-spot…oh fuck…” she was losing touch with her words but didn’t care. Hermione gripped her hands firmly into the mattress beside her, fully afraid that if she did not she would pull him down fully over her and throttle her tongue into his mouth, desperate for more. The slick squelching sound of his cock pounding her molten liquid core echoed up to her ears; the blood thrumming through her temples blazing inside her head as he pounded into her. She closed her eyes, bucking her hips to meet his thrusts and within just minutes an orgasm far greater than her smaller one from the first Love Tunnel tore through her. She squealed; her toes curled; she let the sound of her orgasmic cry break over her ears, not caring that George Weasley was watching or that Severus was trying harder than anything to keep himself from coming.

When clarity began to cut her post-orgasmic fog and it was clear that he was not going to allow himself release, Hermione whimpered slightly and then let her hips fall flat beneath him. She watched as he stilled himself a moment, carefully sliding himself back out of her core. His cock was throbbing, still covered in the fleshy spikes. “That’s good, that’s actually really good, could you— I mean— Hermione, I just want to see if it’s something that— er…” George rolled his hand in her direction. She looked perplexed, not quite understanding what he was getting at.

Severus put two firm hands on her shoulders and pulled her up to sitting. “Kneel down beside the mattress, Miss Granger,” he said guiding her body toward the mattress’ edge.

It dawned on her then, as he positioned himself around her shoulders, one leg on either side, that George wanted her to suck him, presumably to see if the texture was one that could be tolerated in the throat. She blushed but it was only for a moment. She was growing less shy when it came to administering oral pleasures to him. She was still no expert by any stretch of the imagination but her eagerness to have any part of her, including her throat, filled with his desirable cock overrode her embarrassment and she licked her lips before gazing up at him rather innocently, trying her best to look seductive.

But Severus’ eyes were closed. Both hands rested on the tops of her shoulders and she could sense that he was about to lose his handle on his self-control. Something washed over her in that moment; it was a compassion that she had not expected. Hermione placed both hands on the top of his thighs, giving his flesh a delicate, tender, squeeze before she bowed her head and carefully drew the tip of him into her mouth. She let her tongue rest still against the underside of his shaft before beginning to suck his length into the recess of her throat. The fleshy spikes did not stab and were not unpleasant, no more so than generally having a long, thick, pulsating rod, of hot, turgid flesh gliding down into one’s throat.

Severus hissed, feeling her tongue move slowly around his cock. “That’s enough,” he whispered, but could not bring himself to push her back.

Hermione was certain that he would need to finish before the enchantment would wear off, so she drew in a raggedy breath through her nose and then began to bob up mouth vigorously up and down the length of his shaft, all the while letting one hand slip beneath his thighs, moving to cup his balls. It was the gentle squeeze of his balls along with a swirl of her tongue over his tip that sent him over. Severus growled; Hermione forced her throat to relax; gushes of his hot seed spilled into her mouth, splashing her tongue and lips as she sucked his release.

She waited a moment before pulling back, careful with his shaft and tip as she released him from her mouth. “It’s easy on the throat, George,” she said, though her voice was husky and low. Hermione licked her lips and stared at Severus, whose eyes were still closed. She loved the taste of him; it was a rare treat that she was not often allowed.

A buzzer roared and echoed around the workshop. “Bloody hell who could that be?” George frowned. “I’m not expecting— ooh. Wait a tick!” he leapt up from the stool. “Yes I am. I mean I’m not expecting— that would be a wizarding world miracle,” he smirked, laughing at his own joke. “I’m— delivery! That’ll be the Wonder Water, I suspect. Freshly packaged, and ready for grand release at the convention!” He was practically giddy as he fled through the workshop to the stairs, downwards this time into the Joke Shop. “Be right back!” his voice trailed up as he disappeared.

Hermione was cautious as she stood, drawing her robe around her. “Are you—”

“Fine,” he muttered. She noted the way he glanced down to look at his gently deflating erection. “And smooth,” he said with a hint of relief.

Hermione smiled. “It didn’t feel— well, not in my mouth anyhow,” she shrugged. “Brilliant in….well…”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered and drew his robe closed. She stared at him. “What?” he sneered.

“You just…something’s off,” she shrugged, though she knew she shouldn’t have.

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated and then stared down at the ground.

Hermione took a timid step toward him, being careful as she once more sat beside him on the mattress. “Do you want to—”

“No,” he muttered and tensed when once more he felt her hand on his thigh. But again he allowed her touch, not moving to dismiss her.

“Okay,” she said simply. Though she would never completely grow used to not discussing things, as was her— and nearly all witches ever— way, she could take solace in the fact that he had not yet rebuked her comforting touch. It was a small thing she could give to him, rather that he allowed her to give to him and for the moment that was enough. It was still quite the maelstrom of emotions inside her mind; knowing that he hadn’t exactly chose her in the battles of Nigel versus Hermione— a completely fictitious matchup between herself and the barely-legal muggle Twink— and yet that she was still victorious was a bitter spoil of war that she was trying to enjoy. But it was taking its toll on him, she could sense it, even if he wouldn’t say so. Hermione sat beside him, just letting her hand rest there, saying nothing.

“You’re being unusually quiet,” he said after a time.

Hermione scoffed. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. “You prefer it when I’m quiet,” she said.

“A true statement. That does not mean, however, that it isn’t unusual.” He said without looking at her.

“You said you don’t want to talk about it,” she tried to stare straight ahead as well, but found that she kept trying to glance at his face in her periphery.

“Also a true statement. That does not mean, however, that I wasn’t expecting your insistence and barrage of questions and insistences that I answer them.”

Hermione sighed. “Look, I think you should talk about—”

Severus placed his hand suddenly over hers, squeezing her fingers. “Not here.”

She frowned, but then gasped quietly. “Does that mean you will talk about it.”

There was silence for a moment. He released her fingers from the squeeze hold he’d put them in, but kept his hand atop hers. “I shall think about it,” he said.

But before she could say anything further, George had returned. “We’ve got Wonder Water! By the case full! Definitely going to be demonstrating this at the convention,” he cheered. “But we know what it does, so let’s get back to those Love Tunnels! I doubt they’ll be useful for demonstration purposes, but I want them ready to have in the samples catalogue so that people can get an idea. The more we have launched and ready for sale before the convention, the better off we are,” he added. “Now, are you both ready?”

“Yes,” they said, surprising one another that they spoke their responses in unison.


	19. Posters and Panic

The night had wound on, seemingly endless with Love Tunnel after Love Tunnel. And when all was said and done, Hermione had grown no better at dueling. George had even forced her to give Severus the wand she had been using just so that both could be tested equally. She was even slightly sore as they were dressing, preparing to depart for Spinner’s End. The purple and pink Love Tunnel, or Love Slip as George was considering renaming them, had behaved much the same as the pink one had, though Severus had noted it had more of a zapping sensation than a pulsing one. The purple one seemed to be a mere mock-up of an alternate color and had had no effect whatever. She had not been overly pleased with the black Tunnel Sleeve, which they’d wrapped around Severus and then pressed in at her back door. While she was still adjusting to anal penetration and no longer clenching at his size, she could not feel the benefit of rough ridges lining his shaft and had been blessedly relieved when Severus had said it was uncomfortable on him as well. Whether or not it had been true or if he was merely trying to more quickly put her out of her misery, she hadn’t been sure.

When they were both standing out on the street in front of the joke shop, she turned to him somewhat expectantly. But before she could speak he shook his head. “Go home, Hermione.”

She wasn’t one to follow orders like some forlorn pup, heeling to its master. But he was severe in his tone without cruelty, firm in his delivery without malice, and she was still so surprised when he deigned to use her given name rather than her surname that she found herself obediently nodding and with a loud pop, disapparated to Spinner’s End. Her thoughts had been jumbled ever so slightly, and though thankfully she hadn’t splinched herself, she had landed around the back on the tiny patio rather than out on the street at the front of the house. So much the better, for as she walked around to the front of the house she was met with a most startling and unpleasant sight.

Crouched down in a huddled ball in front of the front door was Nigel. Hermione quickly contemplated disapparating, but the pop of her apparition had startled him and as he looked frantically around for the source of the noise, his eyes landed on her. He tried his best to sneer, but she could see that he had been crying. “Severus isn’t home,” she said, moving toward him. She did not wish to be near him but wanted to go into the house.

“I can bloody see that, thanks,” he spat, doing his best to cover his tears.

“What are you doing here? It’s nearly half three in the morning,” she frowned.

“S’pose I ask you the same thing, you— you— witch,” he whined.

Hermione bit her tongue. She was in no mood for his antics. “I live here,” she said hotly but kept her temper in check. This silenced him for a moment. When he said nothing and showed no signs of standing, she rolled her eyes and groaned a sigh. “Shouldn’t you be at your job? The porno shop?” she asked.

Nigel shrugged. “I got the sack,” he muttered.

“Oh,” she said and then bit her bottom lip, unable to help it. “Sorry.” The last thing she wanted to do was invite the whelp inside, but it was against her upbringing not to offer a spot of tea in times of true crisis, even if the victim of the crisis was a sworn enemy. “I was just about to put the kettle on,” she lied. Hermione had had no intent of putting the kettle on. She had wanted to go in, take a bath, leave Severus a long note inviting him to come to her bed for sleeping purposes when he arrived from wherever, and then crawl into said bed and fall asleep waiting for him.

“So?” he sniffed.

“So, you twat, do you want to come in and have a cuppa while you wait or are you going to sit out here like a ninny and cry the night through?” She huffed. Hermione was not a fan of coarse language but it seemed to be the only thing that really got through to Nigel. Her words and tone seemed to startle him to action.

“You sound like him,” he muttered and shakily pulled himself to his feet.

Hermione was careful with her muttered spell to open the door, jiggling the handle loudly to appear as if she’d been fumbling with the key. She was grateful that precious little inside Severus’ house could be readily identified as out of the ordinary to any muggle. He lived a simple life. And after all, he had been to Severus’ house before, and although Severus wasn’t present, she supposed there was no harm in bringing him inside. She trudged into the kitchen and Nigel followed, not saying a word as he watched her put the kettle on.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked. Hermione loathed small talk. Though she could talk to anyone about anything, usually, making idle chit-chat annoyed her as much as her incessant need to talk through her feelings annoyed Severus. Yet there she stood, making tea, and trying to create a small surface layer of conversation between herself and the annoying lover-whelp-boy that Severus had all but chased off the morning before.

“No,” he said defensively. It was obvious he was lying.

Hermione wished more than anything that Severus would return home rather quickly. She hadn’t been able to ask where he was going; she had assumed he’d pop off to the porn shop in an attempt to find the boy and speak with him, and perhaps when he didn’t find him there— as unbeknownst to Severus the lad was right there in his own kitchen— that he would seek him out at his residence and then come home. She really didn’t know, but wherever it was that Severus was, she longed for him to return. So she fixed tea in silence, carefully observing Nigel as she did. He did not sit, though she hadn’t offered him a chair, and when she placed the tea service down on the table, she noted that he filled his tiny cup with four sugar cubes and a bit of cream.

“I don’t know when he’s going to return,” she said truthfully.

Nigel said nothing. He sipped his tea quietly and for a while there was silence. Then he spoke. “How did you come to live here?”

She was startled by the question and had to check her urge to tell him that it was none of his business. It was indeed none of his business but beyond that it involved circumstances which she could not explain. There was no explaining that her job with the Ministry of Magic had fizzled into a dismal failure and had black-listed her and left her all but penniless, forcing her to take up a job as an adult-novelty tester, which was what brought her to Severus’ door in the first place. There was also no explaining to him, or really to herself, why she was still residing with him. George had been paying both herself and Severus well; she’d been paid well enough that should could have at the least procured a squalid flat somewhere in Diagon Alley, and yet there she stayed. And surely Severus knew as much, as he understood well her situation of financial destitution. Yet he had not sent her packing. “I think that’s an explanation best left for Severus,” she said coldly.

Nigel scoffed. “So you don’t undo his lies, you mean.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He was a trying little thing that was readily grating upon her last nerve and he’d only been in her presence a handful of minutes. “So that he can explain his benevolence better than I could,” she said tersely. “I was in a bad situation and Severus was kind to me,” she said. It surprised her to realize that this much was true. Not because she had not expected kindness from Severus Snape, though if truth be told it was not a personality trait that she readily contributed to him, but rather because she had overthought so much of everything that had gone into the situation in which they were currently living.

“Oh,” he muttered.

She was at odds with what else to say or do, really. All of his brash bravado that he’d been squealing with that morning was nowhere to be found. She still didn’t care for him but she also couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. That did not, however, mean that she was keen on keeping him around. But Severus was nowhere to be found either, and dawn would soon be on the rise. She’d finished a third cup of tea before giving in and finally coming to a decision. “Look, I’m sorry you got the sack…” she let her words linger, hoping to imply that this sack was not only from the pornography shop but from Severus as well. Though she pitied him, she had enough of a struggle dealing with Severus on her own; she did not need Nigel in the mix as well. “And you can wait if you like…but he does this sometimes…” she lied. “Out all night…I’ve learned not to wait up.” There was a pang of guilt in her stomach. She wasn’t a very practiced liar. Severus saw through her immediately. But Nigel, thankfully, was not as well-versed in detecting untruths as Severus. She eyed him warily and then glanced once more at the darkness that lay beyond the window.

“Can I have some paper?” he asked.

“What?” she said. “Oh…um, I suppose so.” Hermione hadn’t the slightest clue where Severus would keep paper, let alone a pen. She had parchment in her bedroom, but it was rolled parchment with a feather quill and ink bottle. “I’ve got some in my room, just a minute,” she said and moved quickly out of the kitchen. Two hasty transfigurations created an ordinary muggle-looking sheet of paper and an ink-pen from her parchment scroll and quill. “Here,” she said and then she nodded at him. “I’m turning in…you can see yourself out,” she said firmly.

Nigel said nothing but started scribbling a most messy chicken scratch down onto the paper. Hermione lingered for a moment and then disappeared down the hallway. “Muffliato,” she whispered, and stood there, waiting to see if he would really leave once he’d finished writing whatever it was that he was writing. It took a bit less time than Hermione had anticipated and within just a few minutes, Nigel was moving toward the front door, unable to see or hear Hermione. When she was certain he was gone, she disenchanted herself and walked into the kitchen. The paper was folded over with ‘Sevvy’ scribbled across it. She bit her lip. Hermione picked up the parchment, running it through her fingers once, and then again.

It wasn’t hers to read. But she desperately wanted to know what was inside. Taking the parchment into her room, she closed the door and laid down on her bed. Hermione laid there for several moments holding the folded-over letter. The burning need to see what Nigel had written was great. But what of it? Severus would read it and surely would be furious if he knew she had read it. What if the boy had come to his senses and was saying goodbye? She sighed heavily. She needed a hot bath to help clear her head. Tucking the letter inside one of her bedside books without having peaked at its contents, Hermione stepped out into the hallway and across into the bathroom.

The water was scalding; it felt just right to Hermione. Everything about her ached. Sex in the workshop had been thoroughly demanding, despite all of their rest periods in-between each of the Love Tunnels. Truthfully they hadn’t been very restful for her as she continuously fell victim to the various enchantments of the dueling wands. And she was still quite unsettled from the rough shower sex that morning. It was all starting to blur together. Hadn’t they spent the night together before? After she’d stormed out of the workshop and he’d all but drug her home? All of that was still going on; the touching of the scars, the sleeping together in both senses of the words, the encounter with Nigel, her encounter with Charlie. It was all a bit much to take in.

She hadn’t exactly nodded off in the tub, but she’d drifted, and thankfully she had not drifted down beneath the water. But her eyes opened fully at one point, meaning she’d closed them at some other, realizing that she was being watched. “Oh!” she cried, splashing a bit, as she uprighted herself in the tub, feeling the chill of the room against her skin as she pulled herself up out of the water. Severus stood there, offering her a towel. Hermione took it and said nothing, wrapping herself gingerly in it before stepping from the tub. “Have you been watching me long?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Long enough,” he muttered. “Go to sleep.”

“I was…and then you woke me with your watching,” she said, unable to hold back her yawn any longer.

Severus’ face was mild; there was almost a smile on his lips at her words. “Go to sleep. In your bed,” he said and nodded toward the bathroom door. Hermione stepped toward him but was quickly pushed off. “No,” he said, his voice firm but not cruel. It was still a tone to which she was attempting to adjust. “I’m having a shower— an actual shower for the purpose of cleansing myself and nothing more— and then I’m going to sleep.” He narrowed his eyes at her when she didn’t budge. “In my bed. Alone.”

“You could come to my bed,” she offered, trying to seem coy, but knowing it was brazen.

Severus snorted. He turned around and began to fiddle with the tap, resetting it for a shower. “I think not.”

“I’m too tired to fuck,” she admitted.

This gave him pause, to which he laughed after a moment’s contemplation, all the while keeping his back to her. “Inconceivable,” he mocked and began to strip his garments. “Go to your bed, Hermione,” he repeated. “I’m having a shower.”

“But you’ll join me?” she asked once more. She was answered with the shower curtain being drawn sharply closed in front of her face. Hermione’s blood boiled. Or it would have had she had any energy left in her. If she hadn’t been so bloody exhausted, she would have torn the curtain back and stomped into the shower, carrying on the heated fight until one of them was flinging the other against the wall. Just the thought of being thrust back onto anything with him pounding into her made her twinge, reminding her of how sore and truly worn out her body was. A part of her wondered if she was reaching her peak of sexual tolerance. It was something both George and Severus had mentioned early on, though rather much in passing, and she wondered if it was now happening.

But she was too tired to think even on that. Begrudgingly, she tugged her towel around her more tightly, slipped out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, and all but fell into her bed. She hadn’t even bothered putting on a dressing gown or undoing her towel. With her head halfway pressed into the pillow, and her body stretched crosswise over the bed, Hermione quickly drifted off into a deep sleep; Severus, Nigel, and the note forgotten in favor of her weary, worn-out body.

Hermione was dead to the world for all intents and purposes. She slept soundly, at least more soundly than she could remember sleeping since long before the war. Not that it had been a pleasant sleep, dreamless as best she could recall, and without having taken a drought for such effect. Her body was grateful, though still protesting when she felt the need to stir her stumps and stretch from the bed. Only as she raised her arms up, extending her legs out, she bumped into heaviness and warmth. There was a duvet atop her body, which she had most certainly not draped over herself when she’d collapsed into slumber. And more importantly, there was a body quite close to her body and mostly naked from the feel of it. Twisting her head back over her neck and shifting as delicately as she could, she forced her eyes opening, peering at him.

“Don’t bother, I’m awake,” he muttered, though his eyes were closed.

She frowned, staring at his face, twisted halfway into the pillow, his hair asunder. She could just see the coarse curls of his chest peeking out from beneath the duvet, and assumed, like herself, that he was naked or only covered with a towel. It did not take much shifting and gentle wriggling about to confirm her suspicions.

“You’re like a Flobberworm, wriggling and writhing about, can’t you ever just be still?” he growled, eyes still closed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, but shifted again.

Severus drew his arms up, grabbed hold of her, and pushed her onto her right side, forcing her to face the door of her room. She was jostled about and then pulled firmly back against his body, her back braced into his torso, as he draped one arm and one heavy leg over her figure. “Be still,” he yawned.

It was a warm, enveloping spoon. The man radiated heat like the sun itself and it set her body tingling, despite the weary sensation that still coursed through her. She tried not to shift, but couldn’t help it as she felt the firm rod of his cock mashed just against the split in her cheeks. She bit her lip, stifling a whimper. “Mm,” she mumbled, arching her back slightly.

Severus moved his hand and slapped the back of her thigh. “Stop,” he grumbled. “It will pass, I deal with this every morning, and I’ve not the energy to dispel it into you,” he yawned once more.

It was such a strange sound; the sound of a yawn crawling out of Severus Snape’s mouth, but it was not an unpleasant sound. It made him sound human; it made him sound normal. Despite the very genuine and normal sounding yawns, Hermione’s body could not relax enough to enjoy being spooned so closely to him with his cock pressing into her backside. She wriggled a bit more, certain that her body would combust into flames. But with every shift in her body came a lazy swat of his hand and the occasional barked command to cease, as if his words and slaps could force her body to behave. A bit of time passed, and she noted, somewhere absently, that he no longer felt hard, his cock was no longer pressing dangerously at her backside, threatening to penetrate her of its own accord.

She could not glean the hour; though she knew it was well past noon just given the brightness in the room. But she was comfortable, surprisingly. And so too was he, if the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against hers was any indication. He was an inferno of body heat; Hermione found that surprisingly comfortable. The duvet had slipped ever so slightly down from where he’d pulled it up over her shoulder and that bit of her body was chilly, but otherwise she was completely warmed. It took a moment of fidgeting and slithering her body this way and that, accompanied by half-sleepy swats of his hand, but she managed to roll over onto her opposite side, pressing her chest against his, curling up against his body.

“Severus,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against the thicket of hair on his chest.

“Nobody’s home,” he mumbled.

She snorted softly. “I see.” She pressed her lips ever so gently against his skin.

“Let me sleep, Hermione,” he growled, forcing one eye open to gaze down at her.

It was quite the sight, and it made her giggle slightly; seeing him glaring through one eye at her, pressed so closely to her, she felt giddy. “Do you—”

“So help me Merlin, if you do not let me sleep…” he growled. Severus had trailed his hand up along her back and tangled his fingers into her hair. “Don’t you ever sleep?” he grumbled.

Hermione wanted to sigh; his fingers were idly stroking at her tresses and it felt lovely. It felt familiar, like the comforting touch of a lover. She tried not to think about it and yet it was all she could think about. Far from her mind was the uncomfortable encounter with Nigel when she’d returned home that morning, and even further still was the letter he’d left for Severus. The letter that she had not read but instead had tucked away between the pages of a book on her nightstand. That was far from her mind too. Severus was on her mind. He had appeared in her bed, naked after his shower and slept there for some time as well. He had not pushed her off, he who had been so averse to touch; he had pulled her closer to him, though she realized full well that he would justify his actions as a means to keep her still in the bed.

Her mind was consumed. It was difficult not to feel warmed, both inside and out, when pressed against his body. He was breathing; not like before, the deep and restful breaths of someone who was at ease in their sleep. His breaths were shallow and delicate, like a man wanting to lie very still without being noticed. She chanced a glance upward, catching his eyes. There was a curious thing floating in those dark, fathomless orbs. It wasn’t the usual contempt or consternation staring her down, or even the lusty unbridled passion that she evoked in him; this was something altogether different.

The intensity of his gaze, though not harsh, was still felt keenly and after a moment she could stare into his eyes no longer. As her eyes flicked downward, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. Just at the side of his neck, mostly hidden by his hair, though still quite visible, were the puncture wounds that had marked his almost-death. He was unmasked; his glamour was down. There was a surge of feelings welling inside of her as she thought about this. She closed her eyes for just a moment, trying to recollect whether or not he’d been unglamoured when he’d woken her in the bathtub. She could not recall seeing the punctures on his neck, but more notably would have seen his mark. Hermione could picture him clearly; she had seen no sign of his mark.

He had dropped his glamour after she’d gone to bed, and was exposed to her now. Hermione drew in a sharp breath as he felt the pad of his thumb gently stroking the swell of her arse. She felt guilty. She had remained glamoured; she was constantly hidden from him in that small regard, though she seemed to often expect him to be fully available to her. With a shaky breath she muttered, feeling the rippling tingle of magic shimmer over her skin. Though the duvet and his hand covered her ass, she knew the small tattoo would be visible if he so chose to see it. So too was the mark on her arm; it was an ever-present reminder of how the world saw her.

He had felt her drop her glamour too, if the way he pulled her slightly closer was any indication. Hermione longed to sob. Before she had been filled with bravado and determination; she had something to prove when she had shown him her marks. But this was different. This was a new bridge of trust that she had never crossed with anyone, let alone with him, and it broke something inside of her. A wave of feeling flushed through her and she couldn’t help the tears as they streaked down her cheeks. He did not move to brush them aside, but she felt the heated breath of his nose just at the side of her face. There was silence between them, just breathing; his breath falling gently on her cheek and hers into the crook of his neck.

Warm, comforting breaths lulled her off into a hazy slumber and before long she felt her body being pulled back from sleep. Hermione blinked several times as she felt the room’s chill creep over her. “What—” she yawned, stretching her arms out. He was no longer curled beside her, holding her. “What time is it?” she asked.

Severus had not gone far, just to the edge of the bed, sitting up with his back facing her. “Dark,” he nodded to the window. “Likely half six or perhaps seven,” he said with a simple shrug. “No urgent owls from Mr. Weasley…so either we’ve the night off or he’s not expecting us until far later.”

“Right,” Hermione shook her limbs, feeling rested and yet sluggish. “I’m starving,” she said after a moment, feeling a gentle rumbling in her stomach.

Severus nodded. “Sustenance would be wise.”

Hermione leaned up onto her knees and hovered over his shoulder. He tensed but only briefly when she leaned herself against his back and pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw. “I can cook us something if you like,” she offered.

He said nothing, but turned his head to the side, meeting her eyes. Then he shook his head and slipped out from under her. “I shall be back in an hour’s time, I can bring food if you can wait that long,” he said. Without any further explanation, he strode from the room. Hermione didn’t know what to make of it. A part of her longed to tear after him, insisting that he stay in and have whatever she could manage to concoct in the kitchen. There was a niggling fear that he was going out to hunt for Nigel; this thought made her mind snap cold. She hadn’t given him the letter. Jumping up from the bed, and oddly bothering to drape herself in a robe, Hermione snatched up the parchment from the bedside book and burst into the hallway. But quicker than lightening, he had vanished. She checked his room and the bathroom and everywhere else she could think of just to be sure, but Severus had gone.

Hermione sighed. In her fingers once more was clutched the letter; the letter that she had chosen not to read but was now sorely tempted to do so. But first she needed to eat something. She hadn’t been to the shops as of late and found the pantry to be somewhat bereft of most things edible. She settled for eggs and sausages that she quickly warmed and the last of a glass of orange juice; if he brought home food so much the better, she could put it away for later. She let the letter fall to the table, leaving its untidy scrawl facing up as she chewed her food. What on earth could Nigel have said? Meet me at midnight tonight on the bridge. Leave your tarty witch and run away with me. She rolled her eyes just thinking about it. Whatever it was that he had or hadn’t said, she was proud of herself for not stooping so low as to read it, though it would have been quite easy to do so and would have readily sated her curiosity in the process.

An owl’s tapping at the window startled her she knocked into her glass as she stood to address the bird at the window. It was a large feathered raven; she recognized it as one that Severus often used. Hermione frowned. Tied to its leg was a singular rolled sheaf of parchment, his spidery handwriting immediately recognizable as she undid the bit of twine wrapped around it. The bird clucked and nipped at her finger. “Ow,” she said and tapped it on the beak. “You can eat what’s on my plate. Shoo.” With an indignant caw, the raven swooped in and landed on the table, planting its feet in the puddle of orange juice that Hermione had spilled in her haste to permit the bird entry.

George requires us at ten. Apparate to the café at Horizont and Diagon Alley at half eight if you like, otherwise report to the shop just before ten. ~S

Hermione felt somewhat guilty that she had made herself the sausage and eggs, though she hadn’t really eaten the sausages, they were always a bit too hot when they first came off the skillet, and eggs were hardly a filling meal, all things considered. She sighed and turned to see the large ebony bird picking at the last bit of egg on her plate; both sausages had vanished. It was then that she noticed how the spilled puddle of juice had seeped over the letter Nigel had written for Severus. “Damn,” she muttered and shooed the raven from the table. The letter was soaked through, ink running down the front. “Damn!” she cried. With a heavy sigh she picked up the dripping parchment and unfolded it, laying it out on the kitchen counter. The words were muddied with juice, illegible and impossible to read, not that she had intended to read them anyhow. Whatever Nigel had written was no more. And seeing no way of saving the letter, Hermione pitched it into the bin.

She glanced at the clock he kept in the kitchen. She could ready herself and still make it to the little café Severus had mentioned. The juice-ruined note from Nigel had put her off of her meal, not that the raven had left her anything to finish. In no time she found herself sliding into one of Ginny’s casual dresses that Molly had insisted on sending along when she had cleaned out the closet during one of Hermione’s visits. It was a deep green affair, and while the forest color did not look nearly so striking on Hermione as it did on Ginny, she hadn’t had to do much altering to make it fit. The sleeves were fitted and three-quarter, the scoop of th neck designed for someone exactly like herself; someone who possessed far too little cleavage. The material was soft, but not too thin; it fell comfortably around her waist and fluted out at her knee. It looked dressier than anything she’d previously worn to the workshop for working, but not so extraordinary as to turn heads on the street.

Another few moments were spent fiddling with her hair; at last she decided to twist it up, though looking in the mirror she shuddered, seeing the dagger mark still exposed. Hermione quickly muttered a glamour to conceal the wound once more. It was the scar she acknowledged the least. After Bellatrix had carved those unforgiving words of permanency into her forearm, Hermione had gone numb, certain that she would die at the poisoned dagger of that madwoman. She almost hadn’t felt her pushing the searing hot point into her throat, dragging it down, blood flowing quickly from her skin. She had no recollection at all what had happened thereafter, only that she had been returned to Harry and Dobby had somehow rescued them, losing his life in the process.

Hermione placed a trembling hand against her neck, touching now what she could no longer see. Her fingers slide down her neck, down her arm, and cupped her forearm. Even though the glamour hid it, she could still see the words mudblood clear as day, etched into her skin. With a shuddering breath, she forced herself to swallow, and to finish fiddling with her hair. For a moment she thought she looked pretty. A quick flick of her wand cleaned the remnants of her bird-stolen meal, and she was out of Spinner’s End, ready to meet Severus for a meal.

The loud pop that accompanied apparition and disapparation disturbed no one as she arrived in Diagon Alley. She meandered over to the small café that he had indicated, surprised to see him already seated, a menu in hand. Hermione crept up beside him, but he looked up and nodded curtly to her before she could surprise him. “Hello,” she said, when she failed to catch him off-guard, though she supposed she hadn’t actually expected to catch him off his guard, especially not in a public setting.

Severus only nodded, gesturing to the seat just opposite him. The café table was small, their knees would bump when she sat down across from him, but Hermione didn’t mind. It felt very strange to be exposed with him in public in this fashion. Though truthfully, as the shops were all but closing up, the only real foot traffic to be seen was that heading over into Knockturn Alley. She was handed the menu and after a moment, decided that a light soufflé and smattering of greens would suffice. A house-elf appeared but a moment after she’d set the menu down, took their orders, blinked away, and reappeared with a tray teetering on top of its head.

They ate mostly in silence; Hermione was somewhat surprised to see that he had opted for a similar dish. She felt better once she’d eaten. “Severus,” she started with great trepidation. “About last night—”

He raised a hand to silence her. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

“But, you should—”

“Let it alone, Hermione.” He said.

It silenced her. He’d only just stared formally using her given name, and still with the greatest of precautions and only when they were utterly alone. And although the street with scarcely populated, they were out together in public, so hearing her given name put a halt to anything further she had meant to say to him. When he stood abruptly from the café table, she frowned. “Is there time for tea?”

Severus sighed, though his face was passive. “Will you not beleaguer me with questions all through it if there is?”

A slip of a smile crossed her lips. Though there was plenty to be said and much she longed to ask him, and truly a bit that she needed to inform him, she was content that he was conceding to spend a bit more time with her, knowing full well that they were in for a night of working intimately together with George. She tried not to think of what sexual horrors lay in wait and instead followed him up into Horizont Alley. She was not familiar with this bit of the shoppes, despite having frequented Diagon Alley innumerable times before. She was surprised when he paused just outside of a little shop whose signage was almost completely illegible, so faded from sun and weather that it looked to be little more than a hunk of wood hanging on rusted chain looping over the door.

He held the door open for her and then ushered in behind her. “Sorry we’re just about to close up,” said a rather rotund witch from behind the counter. Hermione took note of this witch; it really was looking to be a fact that all witches in teashops were squatty, frumpy figures.

“We’ve no need for anything elaborate,” said Severus with a curt nod. “Just after dinners,” he added and then gestured to the small table near the cluttered shop window. The witch behind the counter made an audible sigh, but then set to bustling about with a tea service. Hermione looked uncertain but Severus rolled his eyes at her expression. “If she were closed up, the door would have been locked, and if she were unable to serve us, she would have said as much.”

Hermione shook her head and took a seat. “Yes, but I feel it must be an awful imposition…walking in as you’re trying to close up for the night…”

Severus gave a slightly derisive snort. “If the proprietor truly felt that way, they would keep earlier hours like the rest of the shops,” he said.

It did not take long for the little witch to bring them tea. It was, as Severus had said, nothing elaborate. A pot, two cups with saucers, cream, honey, sugar, and lemon, as well as a few biscuits, none of which appeared to be fresh. There were no scones or sandwiches, no slabs of cake, just a simple service for after dinner. They took their tea in silence, though Hermione was burning with questions and the need to discuss the events of the previous night. Her face once again gave her away because midway through their tea, Severus sighed.

“I will say this once. You will listen. And that will be all,” he said sharply. “Understood?”

So engrossed in the prospect of hearing what had happened once he’d left her to go home she nodded, completely forgetting that she needed to tell him of Nigel and the letter, the letter which she’d accidentally ruined and had to toss in the bin. But he was speaking, in rather hushed tones, and all of those thoughts flew out of her mind.

“I went to a nightclub,” he said as if he reporting nothing out of the ordinary. “And no, you’ve never been. It’s for males only…more of a bathhouse than anything else, really.” It was strange to hear him speak in such vivid detail. To anyone else listening, Severus Snape could have been describing an average evening, but to Hermione, hearing each word fall deliberately from his lips was like reading the deep secrets of a sacred text lost to the ages. Each word was calculated with precision, she knew, and that he was divulging as much as he did, spoke volumes to her. Another test of trust perhaps. He’d appeared before her unglamoured, and now he was revealing his previous night’s encounters without holding back. She clung to his every word.

“I stayed a while. Encountered a few men that I know… some of whom also know Nigel. None of them had seen him there as of late,” he said with a dismissive shrug, though she could sense he was withholding something. Was it jealousy? Was it bitterness? Was it concern? She was too affixed on his enigmatic experience and trying to decipher it to even think to mention that Nigel had been hanging around the door of his house all evening waiting for him to come home. “I left there and dipped into a dive bar that I have frequented before. I did not stay long,” he confessed, his voice sounding somewhat sullen.

Had he gone there seeking Nigel as well? Had he encountered the men with whom the little whelp was slumming it, as Hermione had heard him say? She couldn’t tell from what little he did explain of his time in the dodgy pub. But still she watched his lips as if they were pouring divinity directly to her ear. “I popped round to his shop, but it was shut up for the morning. Resigned, I returned home.” He swallowed the remains of his teacup. “If he does not wish to be seen, so be it.”

Hermione only nodded. That was the moment her lips should have moved, her mouth should have parted, and her voice should have sounded.

_‘He came to Spinners End. I found him hunched at the front door waiting for you when I returned home. I invited him in for tea, it was surprisingly civil. He left you a note, no I didn’t read it, and actually forgot about it entirely until you’d left earlier this evening. You left so quickly I didn’t have a chance to pull it out and give it to you. Then your bloody raven came and spilled juice all over it. The ink was ruined. I didn’t have proper paper for him to write on and did a quick transfiguration with one of my ink quills. I must not have sealed it in my haste. So the juice made the ink run and note a word was legible. I tossed it in the bin. But he came round. He came about looking for you.’ ___

__That was what she said. In her head. Hermione stared down into her teacup. When she parted her lips to speak she caught sight of him waving his hand to silence her before she could begin. “I was only going to say we should settle up and head on, I’ll get the bill if you like,” she offered._ _

__Severus stared at her for a moment and then he shook his head. He stood from the table, paid the witch, and then held the door for her, waiting for her to exit the tiny, cluttered tea shop. They walked in silence, a quiet that Hermione would have described as companionable had she been asked, not too closely together but close enough that it was understood that they were in each other’s company. They were equal parts surprised to see the note on the door from George when they let themselves into the workshop. He would be late, but get comfortable, and they would get started just as soon as he’d arrived._ _

__It was becoming a routine; Severus helped her out of her clothing and into her robe while he quickly disrobed himself. This evening he took to standing at the foot of the bed rather than sitting upon its edge. Hermione slipped over to stand beside him. In a move that was bold, even by her standards, she let her fingers brush his and slowly glide up his arm until the clutched his forearm. He tensed tremendously. “Thank you,” she whispered._ _

__Though he remained tense he did not jerk away. “What for,” he said without look at her._ _

__Hermione subtly squeezed his flesh. She waited for a moment, squeezed it again and then let her fingers slide down his forearm, settling over his hand once more. “For tea,” she said with a simple, subtle shrug. He said nothing, but she swore that his fingers twitched ever so slightly, his pinky brushing against the webbing between her pinky and ring fingers. Hermione tried very hard not to smile._ _

__“Right! Oi! Hello! Sorry!” George called. He announced his presence from somewhere unseen inside the joke shop._ _

__It was Hermione who pulled her hand away, spinning around and half expecting George to have appeared before them. But she could only just make out his heavy feet on the wooden stairs as they ascended to the workshop. They’d left the door open, creating a lovely echo for when he’d arrived. He zipped through the door, balancing a world of things in his arms. “Posters!” he cried. “Among other things,” he said and all but collapsed atop his armful of things as he leaned over the already crowded work bench. “Have a look!”_ _

__George took a long cardboard tube out from under his arm, but Hermione could plainly see what he was about to unfurl from within. There was a stack of papers a foot high bound in jute, but the array of color and movement was eye-catching and dizzying. It only took him a moment to uncap the tube, shake out its singular content, and unroll the enormous poster onto the surface of the workbench. Hermione stared. A bold black background, which glistened with glitter, was outlined in a fluorescent amethyst that almost glowed ultra-violet. In big letters that looked like the show-bulbs outside of an old-fashioned strip joint were printed the words:_ _

__**SEXXXPLORATION** _ _

__**with** _ _

# The Serpent Master

__**&** _ _

# Lorem L’amour

__****_ _

__Just above the enormous lettering in the shop’s iconic font were printed the words, “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” But what was ever so slightly more disturbing was the tawdry images that accompanied ththe wayward words. The girl she knew she had seen before; it was a more fleshed out rendering of the naughty sketched girl inside the ledger. She had seen the girl on the page with the magical scarves they’d used for various bondage instances. Only this girl looked real and disturbingly similar to Hermione by way of her chestnut curls and delicate shoulders. The breasts were far bigger and sat bolt upright, completely exposed and her legs were far more tone than Hermione’s own legs; the buxom buttocks on the woman was absurd, barely contained in a too-scandalous-for-words pair of knickers. Partially obscuring the girl’s face was a mask, only it wasn’t a mask so much as it was face paint; it swirled in vivacious colors of green and silver, amethyst and black, glistening like the background of the poster._ _

__The girl’s breasts were popping out of the extremely transparent lingerie, and her robust and pouty lips were pursed as if she were prepared to suck something between them. This seemed fitting given the long, thick, and purposefully phallic serpent that the male image on the poster was holding. He, looking like Severus’ naked body to the letter, stood tall, a mask of equally disturbing beauty obscuring his facial features as well, and his chest was completely exposed. He wore skintight black leather down his legs, his muscles bulging through the fabric, particularly the placket in his crotch._ _

__“Well what do you think?” asked George, clearly pleased with the enormous poster. There were other bits and bobs here and there and both male and female model were moving, mostly gyrating and swiveling their hips about. But Hermione could hardly pay any attention to anything except the enormous breasts and buttocks of the female on the page._ _

__“I don’t— George— I don’t—”_ _

__“Oh, good god, Hermione, don’t tell me you don’t like that name. You’ve no idea how hard I had to fight to get it changed from Vixxxy. They were quite fussed that I was making a last minute change and on short notice it’s the best I could come up with!” he whined._ _

__“No— it’s just— I don’t—”_ _

__“It means Sexy Lover,” George said._ _

__“How clever,” Severus drawled. “An alliterative combination of Latin and French, intelligence and passion, calculation and seduction. Fitting for what’s being marketed,” he said._ _

__“I thought so too!” George cried with great enthusiasm. “And the detail, man oh man do they know how to make these things work! This is our personal mock-up, which we get to hang at the exhibition hall entrance. There’s going to be a 40-foot one hanging in the main lobby and back lobby of the conference center. The coordinators say our three clinics are the most requested and that they’ll likely need to book our Friday evening session in the grand ballroom to accommodate everyone who’s requested to attend!” he was all but frothing at the mouth with excitement. “I mean the main stage is one thing— but the grand ballroom! Holy hell that’s a far bigger turnout than we ever could have hoped for! Who cares how the Saturday afternoon and Sunday brunch sessions go!” he squealed._ _

__“Indeed,” muttered Severus. He eyed Hermione warily. “Miss Granger?”_ _

__“Hmm?” she turned her eyes to him, panic clearly present, though she couldn’t bring herself to say so._ _

__“And you’re alright with it, Severus?” George asked, completely oblivious to the unspoken conversation that Hermione and Severus were having with their eyes._ _

__“I’ve little opinion on the name I’ve been assigned. Presumably the facial masking on the poster will be similar to what we’ll be wearing for the protection of our identities?” he asked._ _

__“Yes. Oh. OH! Yeah! They came earlier today, actually!” George jumped up. “I took them upstairs and put them away.” He bounded toward the door leading to the stairs up to his flat. “Expensive and custom fit, but worth every bloody knut,” he said. “Hold on!” and before either one of them could stop him, he’d raced out of the workshop._ _

__Hermione looked frantically at Severus. “What,” he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice._ _

__“Severus, I don’t look anything like that!” she cried._ _

__He snorted. “And you think I do?”_ _

__“Actually, yes…you do, to be honest,” she muttered, feeling her face tinge slightly scarlet as she did. “But look at her— those breasts— they’re enormous! Not to mention they defy gravity in ways that magic can’t even explain. And her arse is ridiculous! It’s like she’s wearing balloons in her knickers!” her voice was frantic on the verge of panicked tears as she spoke. “People are going to be expecting to see— see— that!” she gestured at the poster. “And they’ll get— they’ll get this!” she all but sobbed, throwing her hands up in the air._ _

__Severus took both of her wrists in his hands and pulled them down. Her robe was hanging open, her breasts— though not ample like the ones on the poster— were exposed. He glanced down her body, eyes lingering on her denuded sex before sweeping slowly back up her figure and landing on her face. “And what is wrong with… this?” he asked. “You look as a woman is meant to look. Natural…save for the lack of pubic hair,” he said plainly._ _

__He would not call her beautiful; Hermione had not expected anything of the sort. But saying that she looked as a woman was meant to look was an undoing in its own right. She longed to throw herself forward into his arms, to rest her head against his chest, to take umbrage in his embrace and weep quietly until her feelings of inadequacy passed. But she could do no such thing no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much she desperately yearned to, it wasn’t allowed. It wouldn’t be allowed. So instead she settled for letting his fingers firmly grip her wrists. He had held her firmly before but this was different somehow. It was not like when he’d gripped her in their sexual encounters, which was a different kind of firm with an intensity to it that frightened her. And it was not reprimanding, she had felt that before as well. This was a reassuring sort of firm, yet another thing she had no experience with and struggled to describe._ _

__But the moment passed and he released her hands. “No one will recognize you,” he added as if half reading her mind. “That’s what those ridiculous masks are for,” he paused. “I shall examine them more closely in a moments time, but I conject that they are not dissimilar to a different type of mask used to more fully disguise the identity of the wearer, and I assure you, those masks do their job well.”_ _

__Hermione swallowed hard. She knew he was referring to the Death Eater mask that he had worn for countless years in service of two masters. She did not want to think about it. Her discomfort was palpable and she was surprised yet again to feel his hands on her, this time cupping her cheeks and tilting her face up to look at him. “I…”_ _

__“You need to settle yourself down. He’ll return in a moment and expect you ready to work. As will I,” he said somewhat sharply._ _

__It was vexing. Hermione felt she existed in a permanent state of vexation; Severus and his hot-and-cold temperament toward her. Tender kindness and caring in the veil and guise of work and preparedness. She couldn’t untangle it and her desire to understand it waned with each passing encounter. She nodded, dumb and silent, before stepping back from his touch. “I need a moment,” she whispered more for her own benefit than for his. Hermione closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself internally, and after a few deep, careful breaths, she felt a little bit better._ _

__George had astonishing timing for he returned to the workshop just then, holding two exquisite looking black boxes. They were fancy. Hermione tried not to think of how expensive they were, let alone how uncomfortable they might be. George Weasley was beaming with pride, as if he were offering up his first born set of twins rather than simple illusions. Severus took one box, leaving Hermione to take the other. She opened it with caution, half-expecting the thing to jump out of the box and attack her face. The mask looked surprisingly ordinary. Hermione frowned. It was little more than a simple bit of cloth, hers was green and purple with silver lining. She peered over at Severus who had lifted his mask from the box. His was the same but with harsher black accents streaked throughout._ _

__Prodding her finger at the mask she was surprised to feel that it was quite delicate and not at all molded as she had anticipated. Gingerly lifting it from the box, Hermione held it in her hands, the line of her frown creasing further as she examined it. His sudden presence behind her startled her. “Here,” he said, bringing his hands over her shoulders and deftly taking her mask between his fingers. Hermione had thought he was going to affix it to her face, though she could see no discernable means by which he was meant to do so. He delicately placed her mask back into its box and turned her around so that she was facing him. “Look,” he said. Holding his own mask up. He held it in front of his face and leaned slightly forward, as if peering down into a pensieve. The mask seemed to shimmer for a moment before adhering to his skin. It molded perfectly to the contours of his face and yet made his face unrecognizable in a most enchanting fashion. “It’s enchanted,” he explained. “Now put yours on.” He instructed._ _

__Hermione lifted the mask once more, mirroring as he had done, gently leaning her face into it. There was a momentary tingle and then it vanished. “Is it on?” she asked. “Oh dear. Did you take yours off?”_ _

__Severus shook his head. “A far better enchantment than I had anticipated,” he said. “Well done, Mr. Weasley.”_ _

__“Don’t thank me, thank Marvellas & Masquadas, or the witches and wizards thereof,” he said with a grin. “I just placed the order.”_ _

__Hermione shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she frowned. “It doesn’t feel like it’s there and you’ve taken yours off— or have you? I…” she sighed._ _

__“I have not, Miss Granger.” He said. “These masks appear to be enchanted so that our faces are obscured in a tantalizing fashion, protecting our identity, but when worn together, we can still each other’s faces plainly.”_ _

__“Oh. Hmm, that is actually rather clever,” she admitted. “And they feel fairly weightless…you can’t tell it’s on…are you sure it’s on?”_ _

__“Oh yeah, Hermione, they look great. You two look hot,” said George, not bothering to hide how turned on he was by the masks, though she was 100% certain it was not because of how she looked wearing it._ _

__“Lovely,” she muttered, realizing just how much she sounded like Severus in that instance. “Er…should we wear them this evening? To get used to them? Make sure they don’t malfunction somehow or get in the way? Or slip off?”_ _

__George chuckled. “None of that is going to happen. It’s guaranteed. But yes, if you feel better wearing them through tonight’s testing, knock your socks off,” he grinned. “I’m positive we’re going to work with the Week of Whips with the Sexy Silks for the Friday night Erotica HotSpot,” George snickered when Hermione looked aghast. “Don’t look at me, I don’t pick the names of these sessions…but since that’s the big bang as it were I figure we better head out hard. We won’t demonstrate all seven of the whips, mind you, nor all the silks, we need to entice them but encourage them to buy them. And like I said, I definitely want to feature that Wonder Water on Saturday afternoon. Still think the Lover’s Picnic— with some adjustments of course— would be wise for closing on Sunday. And there is a chance we may be asked to do a midnight thing on Saturday…still have to work out the details for that, but we’ve got plenty we can feature and that’s a quick-spot…just a five-minute demo slot so that would really just have to be one thing…” George trailed off, half muttering to himself as he started to work through the itinerary of what all the conference would entail._ _

__Hermione was only half-listening. She’d known all along, once he’d accepted the invitation to display, that the convention was what they were working toward. It just seemed that it was never coming. And now it was finally here. Her mind was reeling. If she could manage to get through it, what would happen then? Would he still need them on in the shop? Would he part ways with them as business associates, sending them their royalties check as promised on a weekly basis? But more importantly, what would happen with Severus? Surely he would expect her to move out, find a place of her own, and whatever it was they were in the middle of perpetually not having, would come to an end. It nearly made her sick to think on it._ _

__“If you’re quite ready to get started, Mr. Weasley, I suggest we do so, otherwise, let us have some air whilst you gas on with yourself about the convention itinerary,” said Severus, spying Hermione’s wavering gait._ _

__George hardly heard him, but waved them off. It was like watching an episode of mania at times when it came to George Weasley and how readily he could get wrapped up in whatever it was he was prattling on about. But Hermione was not focused on that, she was focused on Severus, who was ushering her out of the workshop, down the stairs through the joke shop, and out into the cool night air of Diagon Alley. “Are you going to be this way until we’re on stage and you vomit as if you’ve swallowed one of Mr. Weasley’s infamous Puking Pastilles?” he asked._ _

__Hermione was hot; she was angry with herself for letting her emotions have total rule of her in the shop. She was angry with him for being so coarse. She was angry at George for being so giddy ridiculous over the whole affair. But above all of the anger she was frightened. Not only was she frightened of performing in front of hundreds of people, which was quickly approaching a much higher number, and the great fear of being recognized, but she was afraid of what would happen in the aftermath. But it was impossible to articulate all of that and already she could feel the pinpricks welling up behind her eyes. “Just leave me alone a minute,” she huffed._ _

__“Very unlike you,” he said but took a step back. “Do I need to scan you for traces of Flinge?” he asked, voice on edge._ _

__“No you bloody well don’t!” she snapped. “I just— I can’t do this!” she all but bit his head off._ _

__“Hermione, be reasonable—”_ _

__“Stop! Severus, just— stop. I— I— ” she could feel her entire body trembling. She was seized in the clutches of anxiety, desperate for his comforting arms; they were the double-edged sword of damnation that exacerbated and assuaged the problem at hand. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against his chest until she beat through his ribs. She wanted to crush her lips against his until they were both swollen and purple with the heat of her kiss. She wanted to run down the alley until she could run no more. Hermione felt all of these things surge up within her at once and she could feel a magical current sparking out of her fingertips. If spontaneous combustion were real, she was certain she was about to experience it._ _

__“Legilimens!” his voice rasped._ _

__Hermione was taken so aback, caught so off-guard, that the power of his sudden invasion of her mind sent her physically reeling backward. She lost her footing and collapsed onto the cold cobblestones of Diagon Alley. Frantic thoughts whirred in her mind; everything she’d ever experienced with him, felt about him, felt for him, and all of the fears and emotions that were swarming her in that moment erupted all around her and in the thicket of it she could see him. She could feel him. There was no closing her mind. There was no forcing him out. She was wrecked._ _

__Glimpses and flashes of everything whipped past her, assailing her like bolts of lightning. Muted and distorted sounds tore at the sides of her ears as memories collided around her. Blinks of moments from her time on the run, snippets of her crying silent tears while Ron finished far too quickly and rolled over snoring, fuzzy renderings of those muggles in Australia all whizzing around in front of her and behind her. Then there was Nigel; there was Severus. The workshop, Spinner’s End, the pending doom of performing at the convention, it was all happening all around her at once and she could feel her heart exploding inside her chest._ _

__Then there were hands. They were his hands, strong and firm, pulling her upward. He had withdrawn from her mind, and somehow quieted her thoughts in the process. She was panting, half breathless, and felt herself being hoisted up to her feet, being pulled against him. Hermione’s eyes flew open and stared into his eyes, frantically searching for anything on which to ground herself._ _

__“Breathe,” he said._ _

__“Why did you— why would you— oh, Gods! Why did you do that?” she sobbed._ _

__“Stop,” he said and held her firmly, giving her figure a firm shake. “Breathe, Hermione. Or you are liable to faint.”_ _

__His words were commanding; there was a hypnosis to his tone that forced her to obey. She felt the cool rush of air sweeping into her lungs, filling her chest. Then she exhaled. She drew several more steadying breaths in and out, in and out. Hermione nodded her head slowly. “I’m okay. I think.”_ _

__Severus nodded curtly but did not release his iron hold on her arms. She was still drawn quite close to his body. “My apologies for the intrusion but it was necessary,” he said. “And we shall discuss the majority of it later,” he cautioned, his eyes darkening for just a moment. “But we’ve work to do this evening,” he said. “You cannot focus on anything but getting to the convention and through the demonstrations thereof. If it means you require extra practice…extra time acquainting yourself…intimately…then so be it…but no good will come of your melting down into a panic every time you think of what’s to come.” He was stoic. He was solid and firm in his words, his eyes unyielding and for a moment it soothed her more than terrified her. And then the remainder of his words caught up with her. ‘We shall discuss the majority of it later.’ That was a frightening thought, more so than the performance anxiety, though not quite as scary as the aftermath once they left the convention._ _

__Hermione nodded, somewhat dumbly, and then wriggled slightly. “It’s cold out here,” she muttered._ _

__“Then get back inside,” he said. She shivered and then leaned into him. “Don’t,” he muttered but she had nuzzled her nose up against his cheek, letting her lips drag slowly against his jaw. She couldn’t help herself. And apparently neither could he. Her lips dragged along his, and then she kissed him. He resisted for but a moment, trying in vain to keep his own lips shut, but her tongue was eager and insistent and his mouth parted for her. She kissed him; he kissed her. They kissed. Hermione shivered, despite the heat from his kiss, despite the warmth growing between her legs, despite how hot she felt being so close to him._ _

__“Oi! If you two— oh, Merlin! Fuck me, sorry!” George cried._ _

__Hermione felt nauseous once more. Severus had pulled away from the kiss, though she was shocked when he did not push her entirely off. One arm rose, almost protectively around her figure, pulling her into his torso as if his arms could shield her from view. “Just a moment, Mr. Weasley, we’ll be upstairs presently.”_ _

__If George had any further remarks before disappearing back into the shop, she did not hear them. Hermione was flushed from head to toe, embarrassed, frightened, and yet extremely aroused. “I…”_ _

__The telltale finger was pressed against her lips. “Do not do that again,” he said. “We have work to do.” Severus stepped back from her, nodded toward the shop, and swept off into it._ _

__Hermione was stunned. Don’t do what? Kiss him? Don’t melt down? Don’t have a panic attack? Her mind was racing; her heart was too. But as Severus said, she had work to do. With haste, she trotted back into the joke shop, with Severus nearly through the workshop door by the time she caught up to him. “Wait,” she whispered, tugging his sleeve before he could enter the workshop. Severus stopped but did not turn to look at her. “Just…” she sighed. “Give me a moment?” she asked. He said nothing. Hermione slipped her trembling fingers up against his forearm, letting them rest there, half expecting him to tense and push her off. But he did not. Instead, he caught her arm in his own hand, turning it up until his thumb was stroking over her forearm. It was ordinary, creamy flesh to the eye. But she knew what was beneath the glamour and so too did he. She closed her eyes and just felt his thumb, slowly stroking the skin of her mark; she let the tension melt into the rhythmic stroking, and with a few steady breaths, she felt herself ready. “Okay,” she whispered and gently shook free of his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”_ _

__As she appeared at the top of the stairs, slowly pushing her way into the workshop door, she caught George’s eye for the briefest of seconds. He didn’t say a word about what he’d witnessed outside. Hermione was grateful, though simultaneously dreading what Severus would say about it when they returned home. He had kissed her too. There was no denying that. It wasn’t as if she’d kissed him and he’d simply refused it. He had tried for a moment to resist her, but then he’d given in and he’d kissed her. And then of all things, he’d protected her, drawing his arm around her and shielding her with his body. The back of her mind snickered to think that if he still donned the long black overcoat that had billowed behind him from his days at Hogwarts that she might in fact have gone unseen when he’d made such a gesture._ _

__She noted somewhat sadly that he was already disrobing and was not assisting her with her own clothes. Though she didn’t need help, Hermione liked the routine. It was a little part of their working together that just felt natural. He took her clothes from her as she undressed, delicately draping them on the hook, and then he helped her into her robe. Clearly after the encounter outside, routine had gone out the window. She hoped that he wouldn’t be overly standoffish or taxing throughout whatever it was George was having them test._ _

__Hermione watched as George began to uncrate something, Severus taking a mild interest, but perhaps only so that he did not have to look at her. They had kissed before; what of it? But that was different. It had been a kiss of compromise, perhaps. She thought back to the very first time he had kissed her; it had been the night she’d first turned up at Spinner’s End, afraid she’d get the sack because she had no means of comparison for the oral toy thing whose name she’d long since put out of her mind. And he’d kissed her to be cheeky; he’d kissed her to mock her. Or perhaps he’d mocked her to cover that he did long to kiss her and thought perhaps there would not be another opportunity to do so. That seemed a lifetime ago. Her mind raced with the kiss in the workshop that first afternoon; he had called it being caught up in a moment. What if they were just perpetually caught up in a series of unending moments? She wanted out of the woods, if that were the case._ _

__“Hermione, come have a look at this, would you?” called George. He waved her over._ _

__She was donned in her robe and made her way toward them. She refused to look at Severus, too afraid of what she might or might not see in his face. George Weasley was holding a little golden box in his hands. Had she been any place else, with anyone else, she could have easily said that it was a box of chocolate truffles. But inside George Weasley’s workshop, standing beside the master-tinker himself and Severus Snape, she knew better. So Hermione was extraordinarily surprised when George undid the slender golden string tied around the top, lifted the lid, and revealed what looked like an ordinary box of nine chocolate truffles._ _

__Hermione gazed at them in quiet astonishment, but quickly shifted her expression to that of questionable concern. Nothing in the workshop was ordinary. Nothing in the workshop was ever as it seemed. With that notion in her mind, she leaned her head slightly forward to examine them more closely. It was unfortunate that at that moment Severus had decided to do at the same thing, bumping his forehead into hers. They didn’t knock heads hard, but it was enough of a bump to make her wince. “Sorry,” she muttered, still refusing to look him in the eye._ _

__He said nothing. Hermione continued to stare hard at the nine chocolate truffles in the box. They were shaped as one might expect chocolate to be; there were a few square ones, a few round ones, one shaped like a barrel, and for the most part they were all a milky shade of brown, though some were a much richer hue, and the barrel-shaped one was flecked with little orange dots. The scent of chocolate was strong, not so much to be intoxicating or overwhelming, but enough to be noticeable. She asked the obvious. “Chocolates?”_ _

__George grinned. “Yes.” He moved over to the work bench and set the box down. “Not just chocolates, of course,” he said and then pulled at the ledger, flipping a few pages._ _

__“Of course,” she muttered and rolled her eyes._ _

__“Mysterious Marvels…” he read from the ledger. “Fred really does boggle the mind at times,” he said with a faded grin. “Anyway, this box of one dozen…” he frowned. “Hmm…clearly we’ve only got nine, but nonetheless…” he shook his head, dipped his quill, and scratched out the incorrect number. “…this box…contains enchanted chocolate delights, each one having a surprising romantic effect on you and your lover. To be shared…” George bent his nose quite close to the ledger. “Aha— love bites…right, so it looks like these will each do…something…”_ _

__“Merlin only knows what,” Hermione muttered beneath her breath, but no one seemed to take notice._ _

__“And you’re meant to each bite it. So each one…you take a bite, Hermione, and then you, Severus, or vice versa, don’t really suppose it matters who eats their half first,” George said with a shrug._ _

__“And what exactly are they meant to do, Mr. Weasley? Other than have a surprising romantic effect?” Severus said, sounding rather skeptical._ _

__George shrugged, again his goofy grin was plastered across his lips. “I have absolutely no idea. This is the only note I could find on them in the ledger, but they smell good, they look nice, and I figured, why not. Who doesn’t like chocolate? And how bad can it be?”_ _

__Hermione and Severus snorted at the same time. This forced her to look at him. Their eyes met briefly, and she could see something behind his obsidian orbs, though again she was uncertain as to what. He looked no different than he did otherwise, stoic and clinical, prepared for work. She dismissed it; Hermione wondered if perhaps she was imagining whatever it was she thought she was seeing in his eyes. But it didn’t matter. She could obsess over it later; she could ruminate on it once they’d returned home. But she didn’t want to think about that either. Thankfully, George seemed fully intent on having them proceed with testing the mystery product, and although there seemed to be little by way of expectations, that mystery was one she was ready to digest, no matter how awkward it became._ _

__She watched Severus move over to the bed. “Mr. Weasley, a bit warmer in here, if you please,” he said; his voice was dry. Hermione tried to keep her eyes from staring hard at his every move as he shrugged out of his robe entirely before sitting on the bed. As if he’d been expecting her to question this slightly unusual behavior, Severus looked directly at her and spoke. “Since we’ve absolutely no idea what will happen with this product…it stands to reason that we should take every precaution.”_ _

__“That’s smart, Severus,” said George. “Hermione, go ahead and shed your robe, I’ll put a warming charm on,” he said and drew his wand. She was slightly dumbfounded, but complied, moving to sit beside Severus on the bed. She tried not to notice that he was somewhat at attention; she tried not to notice how her nipples stiffened, having nothing whatsoever to do with the slight chill in the room. She kept her head tilted slightly downward, staring at their legs as they hung over the side of the bed. “Okay…so I guess just pick one? And we’ll get started,” said George, offering the box to them._ _

__Hermione let Severus take the box. She looked at the truffles once more, noticing upon closer inspection that some of them had intricate patterns delicately carved into their chocolate surfaces, some of which even had hints of color in them. When he made no gesture to select one, she pointed to the one in the center. It was a rounded darkish looking chocolate, with little swivels that looked like flames across the top; there were the slightest flecks of red and blue lined in the swivel pattern. “That one, I guess,” she said. She watched George take note of it in the ledger, she watched Severus hand the box back to George, and then she stared wide-eyed at him as he held the truffle up to her lips._ _

__“Witches first,” he said._ _

__Hermione felt her face flush slightly. Was he being polite or cheeky? She couldn’t read his expression, though this was nothing new. She tried not to linger too long on the vision before her. Severus seated on the edge of the bed, naked, half-aroused, and holding a very tempting, albeit questionable, piece of chocolate up to her lips. It was the stuff of dreams and if she hadn’t been certain that she was wide-awake at work, she would have assumed as much. A bolder, more certain version of herself would have leaned forward with lust smoldering in her eyes and taken a slow, forceful and wanton bite out of the truffle. But Hermione was not so bold in that moment. He’d invaded her mind; he’d finally done the thing she’d accused him of doing, which up to that point he hadn’t actually done. But that wasn’t what was truly putting her off, if she were honest with herself. The tremendous anxiety of the joke conference and what would become of them after— both personally and with their positions working for George— aside, she feared above all in that moment what he might have glimpsed of Nigel in her mind._ _

__But she could dwell on that no longer; Severus pressed the chocolate truffle against her lips. “Go on, Miss Granger.”_ _

__There was no more stalling; there was no more waiting. Hermione parted her lips slightly, taking a bite from the truffle, careful not to eat all of it as the notes had said it was meant to be shared. It was spicy— chocolate with heat— it was not unlike a cinnamon or a peppery kick mingling into the rich, satiny dark goodness of cocoa. It was most definitely a dark chocolate and tingled a bit on her tongue, the spice of it lingering as she swallowed it. Hermione had been so intently focused on the flavor, the sensation of the chocolate in her own mouth, that she hadn’t at all noticed Severus finishing the other half of the truffle. When she looked at his face, his lips were still, though the chocolate had vanished._ _

__“Well?” asked George._ _

__“It tastes spicy, George,” said Hermione. “A bit like cinnamon or a peppery something, not quite sure what, though,” she confessed. She did not find it unpleasant, quite the opposite in fact, though she had been known to enjoy savory things mixed into her sweets, so rarely did she consume them, her incidences with her period notwithstanding._ _

__“I would second Miss Granger’s assessment.” Severus said, sounding ever his clinical and calculating self. “A dark cocoa, with rich, cocoa butter fullness, very little milk and sugar, I’m willing to estimate about 80% pure cocao, along with a capsicum of some sort, perhaps a rough shaving of cinnamon bark.”_ _

__“Lovely,” said George, not glancing up from his notebook. “Is it doing anything, other than tasting exotic?”_ _

__“It’s immediate effects are not apparent, Mr. Weasley. Are there notes indicating a delayed response of sorts?” he queried._ _

__“Um…” George flipped the ledger round, squinting at the scratch made by his late twin. “Hmm…I don’t think so…”_ _

__Hermione, whose eyes had fallen victim to wandering down the length of Severus’ body, was suddenly alarmed. She shrieked, bouncing herself a bit on the bed as she did. “Severus!” she cried, waving her finger frantically at him._ _

__George looked up in alarm. “Hermione, what’s— bloody hell!” he cried._ _

__Hermione skittered backwards, falling off the bed, her arm still frantically waving as her she pointed at his cock. “Severus!” she cried once more. “Your penis is on fire!”_ _


	20. Unbreakably Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sex— proper, smutty, filthy sex in this chapter, I promise. Also as a trigger warning, there is a segment that might read as dubious consent where sex is involved if you squint at it in the right light. But I want to cover all the bases.

A fountain of bright red and orange flames was consuming his erection and Hermione was aghast. It was as if she were frozen in some nightmare, half-expecting to be shook awake only to realize his flaming cock was all a dream. Only it wasn’t a dream. She could hear George exclaiming mightily from beside her, or behind her, it was difficult to discern because the only thing that held her attention in that moment was Severus’ flaming cock. She was apparently panicking enough for the both of them, which was good as he seemed completely un-phased by the fact that flames were engulfing his manhood.

“Severus!” she screeched.

He remained seated on the edge of the bed, one hand quickly, but calmly, grabbing up a fistful of his robe and squashing it against his manhood. After a moment he pulled the robe back; the flames remained. He stared intently down at his cock, as if contemplating something. Severus put his robe back beside him on the bed and then ever so slowly ran his hand up the length of his shaft. His hand passed through the flames as if they were nothing, mere bits of smoke and reflection.

“Bloody hell,” George breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “You’re not actually— I mean— are you ok?”

“It would appear so,” said Severus, his voice smooth and nonchalant. “A visual effect, albeit a startling one, and there is a tingling heat, though nothing like what the visual stimuli might infer.”

Hermione swallowed hard. Her heart was racing, blood pounding hard against her temples and in her ears. “Are you— are you— you’re not actually on fire?” she gasped. 

“Hardly, Miss Granger,” said Severus. He frowned. “You appear disappointed. Perhaps you were hoping it was actual fire?”

She swore she saw the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips, but as in all things related to emotional expressivity with Severus Snape, it was gone before she could properly identify it. However, she felt her face flush redder than any flame— visually simulated or not— consuming him, a sullied hybrid of embarrassment and fury sweeping through her face. “No,” she muttered tersely and then pulled herself up from the floor. She felt stupid for having reacted as such but it had looked as if his cock had spontaneously burst into flames. Though she supposed, upon further consideration of the matter, that had such a thing actually happened he would have immediately reacted in excruciating pain.

“Wow” said George and then moved to kneel just in front of Severus. “Can I?” he nodded at him.

“Go ahead, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, again his voice neutral and nonplussed.

Hermione watched as George ran his fingers over the turgid length of Severus’ flaming erection. The fire seemed to have no adverse effect on his ability to stand at attention. She flushed and looked away when George gave Severus’ member another firm jerk. It was bad enough to have thought about that whelp of a boy doing unspeakable things with him, she did not need to visualize George Weasley jacking him off. But the moment passed as moments did and George was standing beside her, nodding at Severus. “Go on, Hermione,” he said. “It feels— well it’s heated, but I need you to do a four-way test, as it were. Hand, mouth, va-jay-jay, back door…” he nodded again. “Go on.”

She snorted, but did not linger on it. George calling it a va-jay-jay was ridiculous, and referring to her rear as a back door was somehow even more ridiculous; it made her insides jiggle with humor. But there was no time to enjoy that ridiculous moment because she was now faced with a flaming hot Severus, quite literally. Hermione’s brow creased and she frowned. “Are you sure it’s…completely safe? I don’t wish to be burned— well, anywhere, but especially not in my…va-jay-jay,” she said and as she did she could have sworn she also heard Severus snort. But his face betrayed nothing.

George chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Unless your va-jay-jay has some spontaneous igniting combustability thing going on...” he said half questioning. Hermione did not dignify his absurdity with a response. Instead she turned around and stared once more at Severus.

“Wherever you’d care to start, Miss Granger,” he said with a shrug. “I’d suggest hand, then mouth, and so on…but it’s your call.”

She nodded and then gestured for him to spread his legs. Lowering herself onto the floor once more, she knelt beside him and carefully curled her fingers around the base of his flaming shaft. Though she had been hesitant, once she had him gripped in her hand she grew more confident in the fact that it was not going to singe her skin. Severus was right, it was heated, and not unpleasantly. She was slow and deliberate, working her hand up and down his shaft, though it felt no different than how he felt ordinarily, aside from the slight tingling with the heat.

“Good, good,” she heard George say. But she was too focused on the task at hand. Releasing Severus’ flaming cock from her palm, Hermione cautiously lowered her head and ever so delicately slithered her tongue out between her lips, giving the tip of his circumcised shaft the shallowest, lightest lick she could manage. When her tongue did not burst into flames, she slowly drew his tip into her mouth. The heat intensified but was still manageable and she noted that her cheeks began to tingle just the tiniest bit. Hermione drew him further into her mouth, sucking her lips around him as he had instructed. She enjoyed pleasing him, this much she knew, but she hadn’t been given much of an opportunity outside of what they’d done in the workshop to truly hone this skill, and feared that she was still somewhat sloppy.

“How’s it feel?” George asked.

“Hot…” hissed Severus.

Hermione tilted her head up slightly, shifting his cock in her mouth so that his tip was pressing against the back of her throat. She felt her muscles closing off, and there was a slight gagging sensation, but she pulled back quickly to keep from actually choking herself. In that brief second which she had gazed upon him from between his legs with his cock buried in her mouth, he looked divine. There was something crudely pleasurable about the way the pleasure was streaking across his face, all of his self-control unable to contain it. She grinned just a little before a tremble of pleasure rippled through her and she had to cough into her shoulder to hide her moan.

Severus did not ask if she were alright. Whatever added heat her mouth had provided to the flaming chocolate enchantment was nearly more than he could bare. “Get…up…” he hissed, fingers grasping blindly at her. Before Hermione could respond properly, his fingers had found purchase on her flesh and his hands were pulling her roughly up from her knees, all but hoisting her up into his lap. She cried out in surprise as he pressed their chests together. She could feel his heart thumping through his chest and his flaming cock pressing hard against her stomach. “Now…” he hissed. Little beads of sweat had formed at his temple and she was sorely tempted to lick at them; the whole situation was beyond erotic.

“Okay…okay…” she panted, once again her face flushing. She could feel her own natural slickness between her legs, desperate and needy and ready. With just a bit of shifting and lifting, she arched her hips up and settled her entrance over the tip of his flaming cock. Hermione had intended to slide slowly down onto his length, but the heat of the enchantment had a full hold on him and Severus had other plans. “Oooh!” she cried suddenly having his full length thrust up into her. It was like being impaled; there was a full, throbbing sensation of his cock filling her in the upright position, and a new added heat which tingled all through her. It was maddening and pushing toward the borders of painful.

But she wasn’t given time to think on it further. Strong, masculine hands gripped her hips and began to yank her up and down, bouncing her hard and fast in his lap. “Fuck,” she heard him hiss, and felt his forehead press against hers.

Hermione was dizzy with pleasure and pain and strange sensations. She’d been fucked in his lap before but he was thrusting up into her rather than her riding him. She could feel her walls clenching hard against the tingling heat of his shaft, her own breath coming in ragged gasps so hard that she almost did not recognize them as her own. Their bodies were all but fused together and with another hard upward thrust she felt his body shudder and he groaned. It was a guttural sound, filling her ears, sending shivers down her spine. Hermione whimpered, her own walls clenching against his cock as it twitched inside of her. It felt like an orgasm, at least almost like one, but with more heat and tingling and she felt very dizzy.

She thanked her lucky stars he’d been seated on the bed because not a moment later he’d collapsed back into the mattress and she nearly fell from his lap. “Oh!” she cried, and ground her knees down into the mattress on either side of his thighs to keep herself from pitching completely off of him.

“Sorry,” he rasped, his voice a breathy shambles.

“Well…um…erm…alright then. That was hot,” George snickered. “Literally. Severus, could you—”

“I need…a moment…Mr. Weasley…” he panted.

“Right,” said George and hastily rose to his feet. “I’ll just um…yeah…I’ll give you a moment,” he said, and shuffled quickly off toward the stairs, heading up to his flat.

Hermione rolled her eyes. But she didn’t want to think about whether or not he was dashing off up the stairs to wank off to what he’d just seen. Even if it was absolutely what he was doing, she didn’t need to know. Her own breathing was coming down to something that resembled normal. Drawing in deep breaths of cool air, she gazed down at Severus who was still panting hard on the bed. “Would you like me to get you some water?” she offered.

Surprisingly, he nodded his head yes. It only took her a moment to carefully dismount him, draw her robe around her, and fetch a glass of water. When she’d returned to the bed, he was seated upright, leaning back halfway on his forearms, still panting though slower, and still completely naked. Her eyes roamed down his figure, lingering on his crotch. His cock was now flaccid and no longer flaming. She handed him the glass of water, which he took with a grateful nod. She waited a moment and then sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Miss Granger,” he said. “Thank you.”

She sighed. “That was hot,” she admitted. “Not just…I mean actually hot, physically and sexually.”

“I believe that was the point,” he said. His voice had almost returned to normal.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And you’re sure you’re—” the warmed palm of his hand against the side of her face stopped her words. It wasn’t the harsh, calloused pad of his finger pressed against her lips or his own brutal lips seizing hers, but it was him. His touch was once again silencing her. She tilted her head over and looked at him. “Sorry, it just seemed to take a lot out of you.”

Much again to her surprise, Severus nodded. “It was more intense than most things we’ve tested, and I’d no preparation as such, given that its effect were a complete mystery from the onset.”

“Right,” she said, poised to add something but then thinking better of it.

“Are we— is everyone good?” George called down, opening the door from his flat into the workshop.

“All good, George,” Hermione called up. “Though if every one of those sweets is going to require as thorough a testing you’re going to need a full box of Lustipops for us both,” she admitted.

“Mysterious Marvels, I think they’re called,” said George as he reappeared beside the bed.

“Chocolate Madness is what they ought to be called,” she huffed.

“That’s sort of clever, actually,” George grinned. He picked up the quill and began to scratch things down in the ledger. “Chocolate…madness…Hermione’s…idea…” He looked up at her and smiled. “Okay, are you ready for another? Oh! Goodness, you said Lustipops, right!” he all but sprang up from his spot, bounded across the workshop and appeared a moment later with the phallic shaped wonder candies. “Here we are!” he plucked up a bright pink one and a dark brown one. “Strawberry banana for Hermione,” he said handing her the bright pink one. “And fudge for Severus,” he said, handing the darker one to Severus.

Hermione looked at Severus. They shared a glance, one of revulsion and annoyance, but then both opened the crinkly plastic cellophane that contained the wonder sweet, before sucking them into their mouths. “Eugh,” she muttered and pulled the pop out. “This is very artificial tasting,” she groaned.

“Yeah, sorry, still working out the formula for flavors and such,” George said with a shrug.

They waited several minutes for the Lustipops to do their magic, readying themselves for Merlin only knew what as George once again held up the little golden box containing the eight remaining pieces of chocolate. She didn’t dare comment on how they’d only successfully managed to test three of the four orifices which George had been hoping to test. She couldn’t imagine what that would have felt like inside her rear end. The thought gave her a momentary shiver, so she forced herself to look into the box of chocolates.

Hermione was very hesitant as she eyed each one of them. There had been no indication that the truffle which they had ingested would cause Severus’ cock to burst into spontaneous flames. So she wasn’t sure what she was looking for or wasn’t looking for as she perused the rest of them. “Erm…” she sighed. “I don’t know…this one, I guess.” She plucked up a square one that, much like the first chocolate, looked ordinary. She frowned. “It looks like a square of chocolate. It doesn’t even have the flecks of red or blue like the first one did. No pattern…no…it’s just…ordinary.” Hermione knew the moment she said the word she would later regret it.

“Hang on a minute, blue?” asked George, looking up from the ledger.

“Yes, well, not this one, of course. But the first one had tiny flecks of red and blue in those little swivels carved into the top.” Hermione said, with Severus nodding to confirm her observation.

“Huh,” said George with a shrug.

“What of it, Mr. Weasley?” Severus asked, his voice was dry.

George shrugged his shoulders again, scratching his head with the tip of his quill. Little splatters of green ink flecked about in his hair as he did. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Nothing I suppose, I just…usually two colors or two patterns means two things. Suppose nothing of it if it didn’t.” He glanced down into the ledger once more. “Hermione nothing unusual? Your— you didn’t also burst into flames did you?”

She considered this for a moment. She hadn’t properly thought to look, so stunned had she been by Severus’ flaming cock, but surely if she had somehow experienced internal flames, she would have felt the heat immediately instead of when he’d entered her. After another moment of mulling it over in her mind she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not that was noticeable. I didn’t feel the extremity of the heat until…” she rolled her hand, still unable to speak about their fuckery with as clinical a tongue as Severus.

“Right,” said George, making a quick note. “Well, nevermind that then. Go one with this one.”

Hermione was hesitant, half expecting Severus to be snide once more with his comment insisting she go first. She was surprised when he took the chocolate from her hand and held it just beneath his nose. He sniffed the chocolate. She watched his brow crease ever so slightly. He held it out to her, and somehow she knew that he meant for her smell it and not bite it. Hermione inhaled, taken aback at once by the surprisingly robust aroma. How could such a tiny thing have such a potent perfume? It was difficult to place, something like wet grass or morning dew and not quite floral but earthy. But it was strong, hardly any hint of chocolate. This sent Hermione’s mind into a frantic tailspin but before she had a chance to act on her panic, Severus had pressed the chocolate against her lips.

But it wasn’t the smooth square truffle pressing against her lips that had caught her off guard, it was the warmth of his large, albeit callused, palm pressing against the side of her hip. This strangely comforting gesture transfixed her; Hermione parted her lips and pulled the chocolate between them taking a bite. It was dirt; the center of the chocolate had the texture of dirt, the chunky, sodden sort of soil that existed just after a fresh rain. It was punctuated with the peculiar perfume and an after-note of chocolate. She swallowed it surprisingly well despite the texture.

“Well?” George asked.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to look at him. He was impatient, yet quite eager, gazing at them both with big, expectant eyes. “I don’t know, George, it’s rather difficult to describe because it’s almost like a mouthful of—”

“Dirt,” Severus said flatly. “It tastes like petrichor with a soil-like texture and hints of chocolate threaded throughout. It is not the most pleasant thing on the palette, though far better than Bubultourous pus.”

“Well that isn’t saying much,” muttered George.

Severus sat still for a moment, his eyes sweeping slowly over Hermione and she wondered why he was gazing at her with such intensity. Her eyes scanned down her own body, paranoid and half expecting her skin to have turned to dirt. But no such thing had happened. It occurred to her that his glances were merely precautionary; the effects of the chocolate might take place at any moment, or be quite subtle, and he was looking to see what if any of them could be discerned. When he placed his hand at the swell of her womanhood, she gasped. But his fingers were gentle as they stroked her mound, deftly sweeping between her lips which were still slick with their copulation from moments before.

Hermione stiffened, feeling his index finger prodding at her entrance and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. She could not look at him. Severus pressed his finger slowly up into her, stroking her walls once, twice, a third time, gently swirling his finger around before withdrawing his hand from her sex. She all but moaned when he brought his hand beneath his nose, inhaled first, and then pulled the digit slowly between his lips, tasting her essence.

“No discernable difference as of yet, Mr. Weasley,” he said.

Hermione could feel her core tingle and spasm just listening to his voice. It had been a mere touch; in hindsight she supposed he had done it with the most clinical of intentions, to see if her vagina had somehow been transformed into a garden or some such. But feeling the way he casually touched her, the way he easily slipped his finger into her; it was almost too much to bare.

“Hermione? Do you feel anything? Or see anything on Severus that he maybe doesn’t see?” George was flipping the ledger pages and turning them every which way, searching for some detail that would indicate what the mystery chocolate would do. “Stand up, Severus, you too, Hermione, take a look fully around one another just to be sure.”

Severus was first to his feet and Hermione quickly followed. But upon standing she lost her footing, though she was not sure how, and found herself collapsing to her knees. She braced herself for the cold, hard contact with the wooden floorboards of the workshop, wincing as she made contact. Only she did not bang her shins against wood. Beneath her had suddenly appeared a patch of soft, damp, soil. The scent rose up to greet her nostrils, sweeping through her as if it were a hypnotic melody that assailed the nose rather than the ear.

“Hermione! Are you okay?” George asked.

Severus, who had managed to remain upright, was now staring at the patch of soil in which Hermione was kneeling. He bent down and hovered his face just above the dirt. He inhaled several times before finally deigning to touch the soil. Hermione watched as little clumps of it slipped through his fingers when he squeezed a handful of it in his palm. “This is practically mud,” he said. “Though the smell is again that of petrichor.”

Hermione, who had already made contact with her knees and shins, now placed her palms flat against the soil, only to be jerked back by an unseen force. She yelped, finding herself lying on her back with her shins still in full contact with the soil. “I can’t—” she struggled, grunting somewhat as she attempted to pull herself up to a seated position. “I can’t seem to get up,” she growled. “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” she muttered, half under her breath.

Severus, who had been cautious to only touch the muddied soil with his hands, now stood just over her. “Mr. Weasley, are there any discernable formulaic notes for any of these so-called chocolates?” he asked, moving to peruse the ledger.

“I’m afraid not, Severus. There isn’t even a proper description for what’s included with the box of chocolates or what each one does. And the original description said there were 12 and obviously we’ve only got nine…” he handed the ledger to Severus, who began to skim the notes therein.

“Why didn’t it stick to your hand when you touched it?” Hermione demanded, still struggling to free herself from the trapping of the muddy soil. The more she struggled, the wetter the dirt seemed to become, until Hermione was tossing about in a pit of pure mud. It was splashing up over her skin, little flecks of blackish brown mud covering her smooth, alabaster flesh.

“I am not certain, Miss Granger,” said Severus, sounding years away as he continued to skim through the ledger. “Can you not move at all?” he asked, allowing his eyes to roam over her figure.

“I can, I just can’t seem to get up,” she struggled again to prove her point, all the while making it muddier.

George looked at Hermione. “Obviously this is the gimmick though to what end is beyond me,” he said with a shrug.

“It has been known, Mr. Weasley, for some to find the soothing earthen texture of mud to be somewhat of an aphrodisiac, at the very least a sexual stimulant.” Severus said quite plainly.

“You think this is sexy?” Hermione cried.  
“I said some, Miss Granger. The combined scents of dew and natural musk amid soil can be intoxicating to the right person. Coupled with the texture that I’m currently seeing on your person, I imagine to some this would be quite erotic.” Severus glanced once more back down at the notes.

“That still doesn’t explain how she got stuck and you didn’t.”

For that Severus had no answer. Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was aroused but that could have been her natural desire for him or the Lustipop hard at work. She found it very difficult to believe that she would crave such a thing sexually. Then again she had been surprised at her own bodily responses when he had been teaching her about whips and flagellation. Her mind reeled; was that the same thing? Hadn’t she only been aroused because it had been him who had administered her spanking? She had no standard for comparison. Certainly she had never fooled around in any way, shape, or form in the mud, at least not in any regard since she’d become a mature woman, and certainly never with any sexual intent or desire behind it.

“Should we…well…I mean, it stands to reason that we ought to test it anyhow?” she heard George say.

“Test what?” she asked.

“I think Severus ought to fuck you,” he said, scribbling something in the ledger. “See if the mud does anything else? I mean I don’t much expect it will? You never know? But I want to know if it has some hidden magical effect or some other arousing properties that we’ve yet to see before we relegate it to the ‘weird fetishes’ category.”

“Right,” she muttered. Hermione could not wrap her mind around being fucked in the mud. It was filthy; it was dirty; she felt her core warming just thinking about it. Was that her own response to the idea? Or was it merely because she knew Severus would be doing the fucking? Her body had warmed to Charlie well enough, though the entire time her mind had been stuck on Severus. And whenever she was with Severus her mind imploded and all she could think about was the sexual fire that consumed her from within because of how it felt when he touched her or when he fucked her. Was she drawn to the prospect of rooting around in the mud with him? Or merely the rooting around part? It was impossible to tell.

While her mind raced, Severus carefully moved to the side of the mud pile she had spilling out from beneath where she lay on the floor. It was clearly etched into his facial features that he had no desire to become stuck in the mud with her. She bucked her hips up at him and flushed ruby red when he chuckled softly. It was much too softly for George to have heard, but she had heard him. And she heard him lean over her and whisper just at her earlobe. “My you’re eager…”

Hermione’s mind was dizzy. Was she imagining things? Perhaps the mud was hallucinogenic. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear her line of sight, but he remained, hovering just over her. She watched with nervous anticipation as he cautiously brought his body over hers, letting his knees sink into the mud on either side of her hips. Once more she felt his pulsating cock tip at the entrance to her core and she moaned, forcing her lips shut hard to keep from sounding wanton.

She felt his hands, wet with mud, suddenly bracing upon her shoulders, pushing her down further into the mud. “Ooh…” she heard herself moan. It was still such a strange sound, hearing the way she sounded when vocally expressive of her pleasure. Her eyes fell, her lids half hooded as she stared up at him. There was something silky and inviting about the way the mud was pressing into her skin beneath the pressure of his palms. “That…ooh…my…” she whimpered.

Long, silky strands of Severus’ ebony locks fell around her face as she felt him lean over her body. His lips were brushing against the lobe of her ear, teasing her with their breath, tickling her with their presence. “You are filthy…” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe. She gasped, the nip a delicious sting that shot through her body and directly to her core.

“Severus…” she moaned, bucking her hips up as much as the mud would allow, desperate to feel his cock filling her. “Fill my filthy hole…” she whimpered. The words were almost foreign to her lips and she was shamed and shocked to hear herself utter them. But at the same time, saying them set something searing inside of her. Her core was pulsing, crying out for him. “Fuck my dirty pussy…” she begged.

“Dirty little trollop,” he growled and nipped her earlobe once more.

Hermione cried out as he thrust himself hard and quick inside of her. “Oh fuck!” she cried, her voice no longer a whisper. Her hands gripped hard into the mud before she grabbed at his back, streaking her dirt-stained hands up and down his back. She bucked her hips up under him, feeling the immediate release of the mud’s hold on her body. But the weight of his hips crushed her down into the mud once more, though it no longer felt as if she were being trapped there by sentient dirt. “Yes…yessss…” she hissed, the word seeping from lips in delight as she felt him thrusting hard inside of her. “Fuck me, fuck me, harder, you filthy animal.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, growling directly into her ear. “You’re so fucking tight, your cunt is like a vice,” he rasped, panting out as his words, nipping and now more fully biting at her earlobe as he pummeled his hips downward into hers.

“Oh. My. God.” George said, though if either of them heard him, they gave no indication.

Writhing and wriggling and bucking against him, with her arms gripped around him, his cock thrusting inside of her, Hermione pitched their bodies onto their sides. “Fuck, yes! Screw me into this mud, Severus!” she cried, continuing to rake her fingers and nails, still covered in the mud, up and down every inch of him that she could touch. Her body was writhing in pleasure and she let her hands fall slack into the mud, before reaching up and tugging her fingers through his hair.

Mud was everywhere; in her hair and in his, there was hardly any clear specks of their pale flesh left to be seen. Hermione was panting, gasping, begging and pleading. Severus was grunting, growling, and murmuring against her ear. It was a string of filthy obscenities that shocked her core with little tingles at every word. She clutched at him, squeezing his slender and bony hips with the cushion of her thighs, mud slipping all over them as she did. “I’m your dirty girl,” she panted, half desperate, arching her hips up hard to meet his thrusts, which were now reckless.

“Filthy little slut,” he growled, nipping at her ear. “My filthy little slut…” Severus too was panting. She could feel the weight of his body, the pressure of his hips, and the heat of his breath all over her. It was dizzying and she could feel herself all but exploding as he came inside of her, grunting and growling. Hermione’s body convulsed; her toes were curling and she could feel twitches of pleasure ricocheting up and down her spine. She was sticky and slick everywhere, not just between her legs where he had spilled himself but every touchable surface of her skin that had either been touched by his muddied hands or been directly in contact with it.

Severus collapsed down atop her; the weight of his full body suddenly was unexpected. He was strong, and despite a svelte physique, it caused her to gasp quite harshly, her own lungs feeling squeezed. They were both panting, and Hermione was desperately trying to pull her conscious thought-thinking mind out of the sexually climactic fog in which she’d been plunged. Then the weight of his body was gone, as if he’d disappeared. Hermione felt the sudden chill in the lack of his body heat and she shivered, whimpering in displeasure at the cold.

“Wow.” George exclaimed.

“Yes…” Hermione exhaled, struggling to pull herself upright, though she found it was only because her body was still wiggling like jelly and not because she was stuck in the mud. Though she supposed she hadn’t been stuck in the mud for some time as she’d been able to throw her arms all around Severus whilst they’d fucked. “That was—”

“Dirty.” Said Severus.

“Well, I mean let’s call a spade a spade, and all—” George started but Severus shook his head. He was calm, almost entirely composed, though his chest still rose and fell somewhat heavily compared to how still his breathing generally was.

“It was physically and erotically dirty,” said Severus. “You saw the dirt, which rather turned into some sort of lubricated mud, and rather more impressively seems to have disappeared entirely since orgasm,” he paused for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing his own body and then meticulously sweeping overs. “And it was sexually dirty, evoking dirty talk to heighten the experience, as you witnessed.”

George, who was getting better at controlling the way he blushed, nodded in great enthusiasm. “That’s bloody brilliant, Severus!” he grinned. “A chocolate truffle that can make you talk dirty is just mind-blowing,” he began to frantically write into the ledger.

“Short of an Imperious Curse, which I trust the late Mr. Weasley had far better sense than to actually use, there is no such enchantment that can make you talk dirty, Mr. Weasley.” He paused for a moment and then explained, eyes focused on Hermione as he spoke. “An augmentation of a natural desire or perhaps a loosening of inhibitions, some potent combination thereof in the formula and the enchantment, not dissimilar to that of Felix Felicious or Veritaserum with minor alterations…evoking the freedom of that desire to talk dirty is what you have on your hands. If it does not sexually excite the person, I very much doubt it would have quite the same effect as it has had on Miss Granger.” He said and then very quietly, but deliberately, added, “and on myself.”

This stunned Hermione. But she was still too wrapped up in her thoughts trying to discern what exactly had happened for her face to belay such feelings. Those words coming out of her mouth; the filthy, tawdry, pleading words, begging him to be naughty with her in a most wanton way, those had been a secret desire that the chocolate and its magic had helped to unearth? That made her go all but scarlet. This did not go unnoticed by Severus, who nodded slowly at her, and then handed her robe to her. She slipped her arms into it, albeit unsteadily, and drew it closed her around her body.

“A break,” Severus said. “Or we shall never last the remaining seven chocolates, even with Lustipops.”

George nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I need to make a few notes, you two can…well, if you want to have a sit on the couch up in the flat or just relax there on the bed a while,” he gestured to the workshop bed.

“We’re fine, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, his voice slightly pinched.

“Okay, take 15 or so then,” he said and shuffled off.

Hermione watched George walk to the far side of the workshop, pouring over his ledger as he did. She at once turned questioning eyes to Severus, who immediately rolled his eyes in return. His voice was a low whisper, and he took a carefully calculated step closer to her. “Don’t start asking your 20 questions now,” he muttered. “Because I do not know the answer to the three I suspect you are likely to ask first, I am in no mood to share answers about the two that you’ll desperately want to ask but caper all around until I suggest answering them, and no, I am not behaving this way entirely for your benefit, though do not mistake that it is largely aimed in that direction at present.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t assume you know everything that was going to come out of my mouth, Severus.”

He snorted softly. “Why did you stick to the mud and I did not? Does this mean that you secretly desire dirty talk in the bedroom? Why have you never felt that desire before?” he snapped. “I do not know.” Hermione opened her lips to protest but he kept going. “Is my desire for dirty talk something I’ve always enjoyed doing and for how long? Do I prefer being dirty talked to or do I prefer to do the talking? I’ve no desire to disclose that.” Hermione didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth when he started up again. “Why am I being quite so attentive to you this evening? As I said, we need to get through this without your having another meltdown, and no it is not solely a professional courtesy, as you’ve already condemned me to developing a hint of a fondness for you, but I will not conduct any sort of inveiglement or act upon any unrestrained pathos whilst working in this workshop more than is professionally necessary.”

“Are you finished?” she asked, half sharply, have sincerely.

“Are you going to ask any questions?” Severus narrowed his eyes at her.

“Do you think the mud made the sex easier?” she crossed her arms over her chest. She would not allow him to disarm her quite so readily, even if he had, as he had said, known exactly what was going to come out of her mouth, almost down to the phrasing of it.

Severus scoffed and then turned his head over his shoulder to stare at George, who seemed to be lost once more in the scribbling of the ledger. “A slick body is a pliable one, a well-lubricated body is an easily manipulated one. Not that I have ever encountered your body to be in any state but well-lubricated when it comes to vaginal sex, but yes, this particular type of slickness all over the body would generally make sex between two individuals easier.” Hermione gazed into his eyes, trying very hard not to blink. “What?” he snapped.

“Will you have a bath with me when we venture home this evening?”

This question caught Severus entirely off-guard. His eyebrows quirked up high on his forehead and his eyes were opened wider than they had been a moment before. Where such a bold and utterly ridiculous question had come from she couldn’t fathom. She was playing their game again; the never ending and unyielding head game that constantly seemed to have them struggling for control of whatever this thing was that they were sharing. There was about to be an answer, no doubt some snide remark, or a chastising, but with impeccable as ever timing, George strolled up behind them, his lopsided grin radiating from his face as always.

“Are we ready to get back to it? Or should we pause from the chocolates and work on something else perhaps?” he asked.

Hermione, who often deflected to Severus when George raised these types of questions, was surprised to see him shrug, almost with complete indifference. His eyes rested on her as if he expected her to make the decision. She wasn’t sore, not quite yet, though she wasn’t certain her body would tolerate another intense round of fucking. First the heat and then the mud, there was no telling what was coming next with those chocolates. But as much as she wanted to switch to something else, though Merlin only knew what that would be, was as much as she wanted to feel him again. Being filled by Severus, with or without flames and mud, was an exquisite sensation that she was certain she could never enjoy enough. There was nothing quite so wholly satisfying, and if it wasn’t for the fact she was certain she would suffer permanent damage from a friction burn, or rupture a muscle inside her pelvic floor somehow, she would have been content to do nothing but fuck him and be fucked by him for the rest of her days.

That thought was frightening and for a moment she wondered if she was still experiencing some side effect from the chocolate. Hermione Granger had higher ambitions than permanently succumbing to Severus Snape’s sexual prowess. That was another traumatizing issue in and of itself. She was tangled up, certain that she loved him. She was sexually infatuated with him and was desperately in need of him more often than any independent woman should have ever been proud to admit. But she had lost herself somewhere along the way. After losing Ron or losing her position at the ministry, perhaps it had been after losing her flat, or maybe it had been long before that— when she’d lost her faith in life itself, losing her parents and nearly losing her life in the great war; somewhere in that tangled mess of life she had lost her very being. And he had somehow, without meaning to, become a grounding point in her lost ocean of a life. These thoughts, and a dozen others, consumed her mind, eating away at her suddenly from the inside out.

“Yoohoo, Hermione,” George called. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Anybody home in there? Lights appear to be on…” he said and giggled just a bit.

“I— oh I— sorry. What did you say?” she asked, refusing to look at Severus. He had invaded her mind earlier that evening, out of necessity, or so it had seemed. But she did not want him to read her like a book as he so often did. “Just a little giddy still from those chocolates, I suppose,” she said with a weak smile, which she knew was more than enough to fool George but would not come close to passing with Severus.

“Right,” said George. “Just thought maybe, if you’re feeling fit, we could do one more chocolate? Then we can give the box a rest for the night? Or at least for a while tonight? Three should be more than enough for one evening, at least as far as work I can do with them.”

Hermione nodded, hearing about every third word he said. But her lips and her eyes overrode her brain and her ears. “As long as Severus is alright to keep going, that should be fine.”

“Great,” said George. “Somebody go ahead and pick one, and we’ll do one more.”

She examined the little box of chocolates, in which only seven now remained. Hermione tapped her finger atop the very round, blue one. It was a shiny, glossy blue, almost like a sapphire but brighter and with less sparkle. “I suppose that one,” she said and plucked it up. There was no hesitation or chivalrous gestures as there had been with the first two. Hermione pressed the blue truffle to her lips, bit into it, and squealed as a gush of juice crashed against her tongue and ran down her lips.

Severus had quickly taken hold of her hand, bringing the truffle to his own lips whilst she held it. Dribbles of the juice lingered on her index finger and Hermione gasped when he licked them from her skin. The taste of the juice was sweet yet tart; there was a distinct hint of blueberry present, though she couldn’t quite say it was that. She wondered if he could taste it too, but her brain was truly more interested in the way his tongue had so readily swiped up the slender length of her finger, catching the surprising liquid from inside the truffle.

At first she felt nothing, but Severus felt it immediately, glancing down at his cock with somewhat of a frown. Hermione followed his gaze and gasped. His length, which was surprisingly firm and full in that moment, though she supposed he’d once more ingested a bit of a Lustipop, was turning a rich blueish shade of violet. From base to tip, she watched in amazement as his cock seemed to swell as though growing in arousal was somehow naturally accompanied by a flush of blue coloring that filled the skin. And then she glanced down at her own body, transfixed to see that her own skin just at her pubic mound was turning the same bruised shade of blue. She felt her netherlips swell ever so slightly, and without pausing to think how ridiculous she looked, half-craned over her own body with her legs squatted apart, she bent down, twisting her head about, attempting to examine her sex more closely.

Strong fingers tugged at her shoulder, pulling her fully upright. Hermione blushed ever so slightly when her eyes met Severus’, though she really shouldn’t have felt foolish. His hand pressed firmly against her, cupping her sex, and she sucked in a breath rather suddenly. She was certain there was something wrong with her; by now she should have been accustomed to such intimate touches from him. But perhaps it was the way he was always going about them without warning. She felt his fingers slide between her folds, prodding and stroking in a subtly teasing manner, though she knew that to anyone observing it would most likely look quite clinical.

“Nothing out of the ordinary besides the obvious,” he said. Severus hissed quite suddenly and unexpectedly as Hermione curled her fingers around his length, giving his shift a slow, firm tug. “I trust,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You find the same.”

Hermione nodded. Thinking much like a scientist in that moment, she bent down and pressed her cheek against his thigh. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, sniffing at the base of his cock. “Ooh…well…that’s curious,” she mused, fluttering her eyes open to stare up at him.

“What is it, Hermione?” asked George.

“The faintest hint…it’s really just a whiff and it almost goes away after a moment…but I can smell blueberries,” she said.

George looked at them both. “Hmm. Severus, see if you can smell the blueberries on her as well.”

Hermione stood up, careful to stand with her legs spread slightly as she did, allowing Severus space to kneel between them. She was surprised when he did not sink to his knees as she had done, but rather pushed her back onto the bed. “If the effect of this product is as I suspect, there’s an entire position for this,” he muttered before gently sinking his own body onto the bed. Bewildered, she stared at him. There was something in his eyes, a knowing sneer that could speak more words than his actual lips ever would. But all he said was, “Come here, Miss Granger.”

She was hesitant, uncertain as to what exactly he meant. While she was no prude, especially as of late when it came to sexual entanglement, she was still not well versed in all of the sexual positions and finer nuances of sexual activity. Hermione moved with caution, gingerly rocking back onto her calves, desperately waiting for instruction. But Severus did not speak, he sat up and in one strong, sweeping motion, grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up onto his stomach. There was some shifting in the process and she found herself sitting astride his stomach facing his feet. Hermione was about to turn around and ask him what good that would do when his hands firmly gripped her hips and yanked her backwards up his torso. She lost her balance, falling somewhat forward, with her arms catching her on either side of his knees. Suddenly Hermione’s face was hovering just over his cock, with her body stretched out across his chest, her sex resting just over his collar bone.

“Severus, you suspect that this might be a flavored enchantment? Ideal for 69?” George asked.

“I suspect that given the coloration, it is designed for oral pleasure, and this would be the simplest way to test both at once,” he said plainly.

Though Hermione did not know what a 69 was or that the position in which she was currently displayed was exactly that, she understood clearly that she was meant to taste him. A blow job once more. Only from the sound of it, he would be performing on her at the same time and that was both delicious and frightening. But she didn’t trust herself to speak.

George spoke for her, “Hermione, if you’re good, you two can go ahead and start. Test Severus’ theory, I think he’s on the right track. Very odd shade of blue, though,” he added as an afterthought.

She loved the idea of taking his turgid length in her mouth; she loved the sounds he made when she swiveled her tongue under his balls, which she noticed in that moment that they were also the same full blue as his length. She wanted to please him, show how good of a teacher he’d been and even more how good of a student she was; there was something inescapable about that desperate need of approval from a source of authority that fueled her desire to please. And he had instructed her through her first blow job, taught her how to take him into her mouth and how to please him. She recalled well how she’d pressed her finger up into his tight back entrance to give him a full and satisfying release. And now she was faced with his pulsating length once more. This was another chance to feel gratification from having learned how to please him.

Hermione groaned; she was ripped from her reverie by the feeling of his hot, wet, tongue. It stroked between her legs, laving up against her slit. There had been no precursory fingers, no warning, just his tongue, accompanied by the steamy heat of his breathing against her skin. Her eyes swam with pleasure and she could almost not focus on his cock in front of her, or the fact that she was meant to be sucking him into her mouth to test if he tasted of blueberries. She wondered if she tasted of blueberries. Shivers danced along her spine, his tongue rolling lazy circles up and around her swollen lips, tickling her entrance as she twitched atop him.

“Oh damn…” she moaned, feeling his lips curling firmly against the tiny bundle of nerves that could set her screaming. Severus tickled the tip of his tongue against her clit and she wriggled and all but screamed. His hand pressed firmly down on the small of her back, holding her steadily atop him. It was enough to help ground her, enough to make her remember that she was meant to be tasting him. Trying to steady her breaths, which were once again erratic and heaving, she brought the tip of his cock to her mouth, cautious to guard over her teeth with her lips.

Hermione drew him into her mouth. The taste was there; it was a strong bittersweet fruity flavor, very much like blueberries mingled among his natural masculine musk. Blueberries were not her favourite fruit, but they were far from unpleasant in that moment. She licked her tongue in a swirl around his tip, carefully drawing him into the cavern of her mouth as she did. His tongue traced circles against her clit, every second or third swipe resulting in a quick flicker against the sensitive nub. She was bucking her hips back, noting with each thrust in her own movements how the pressure on the small of her back increased.

“Oooh” she moaned, his cock still in her mouth. She heard him hiss. Remembering then that she had hands, Hermione brought both of them in front of her and lifted his balls into her palm. Rolling and squeezing them with one hand, she used her other to gently prod at the space between the base of his shaft and the tightly squeezed pucker of his rear. This earned her another sharp hiss, and several quick flicks of his tongue tip against her clit. Moaning and hissing, Hermione bobbed her head up and down his length as she’d been taught, working his balls in one hand, the other seeking to press against that ring of taut muscle that pleased him so.

There was a pressure building in her core; every flick of his tongue, every time he closed his lips around her clit and suckled, she squealed, her fingers jerking against his balls when she did. Faster and more frenzied, she licked at his cock, drawing him in and out, in and out, and faster and more frantic came the flicks against her clit. And then she was coming. Inexplicably sudden and quite intensely, Hermione was shuddering, all but wailing out in orgasm as she trembled atop him. She felt his cock seize stiff, the hot jolt of fluid that burst forth from his tip filling her mouth. It was thick and sticky, that bittersweet blueberry she’d tasted when she’d first taken him into her mouth. She swallowed, though it took every ounce of strength for her to do so, and then she collapsed, her head falling to the top of his thigh.

“Blueberry?” she heard George ask. “And did it— Merlin, so it did!” he clapped. “That’s brilliant. The blue goes away with orgasm, much like the mud did. No lingering residuals on you, Hermione, what about Severus? Is he normal colored? Did he taste like blueberry?”

It took her a moment to realize she was still collapsed atop him with her legs having fallen wantonly open on either side of his chest, her knees now pressing down into the mattress. She lifted her head slowly, careful not to nudge his gently deflating cock. “Yes,” she murmured. “He tasted of blueberry both during and his— er— when he came,” she blushed. “And no, er yes—” she sighed as she tripped over her words. “He’s not blue anymore.”

If Severus was straining for breath, she couldn’t tell. He hadn’t made to push her off of his body and she couldn’t feel his chest struggling to rise and fall beneath her. Hermione slid her body to the side, flinching as the air brushed her skin, now slick with sweat, and eased herself off of him. She chanced a glance over at him, letting her eyes linger for just a moment on the pale skin of his torso before searching his face. His eyes were closed, his face neutral. She was about to ask if he was alright, but as if sensing her pending question, he opened his eyes and stared at her a moment before tilting his head to the side and shifting his gaze toward George.

“A break Mister Weasley, if you intend any more of those chocolates to be tested tonight, a break.”

George, who hadn’t seemed to notice in the least that Severus was addressing him, was scribbling frantically in the ledger, ink flitting about between the parchment and his face. “…and if blueberry…” his voice trailing off as he wrote. “…possibly raspberry or blackberry…lemon…no,” he paused. “Not. Lemon.” He punctuated each of those words with a heavy scratch of his quill. It was only when Severus cleared his throat loudly that George looked up from the ledger. “What? Oh! Um, right. Another— wait, no…you said a break? Yes. A break, that’ll give me a moment to sort out the notes for that particular one…if I can recapture that formula…imagine the flavour possibilities!” he all but squealed. “Candy is dandy,” he grinned. “You two can stay here if you like, I’m going to pop up to the flat, I think I’ve actually got a set of notes somewhere on something very much like this from the Skiving Snackbox days…”

And before either Hermione or Severus could comment further, George was off like a shot up to the flat, ledger and all. She sighed, relieved that George had not insisted they go straight into the fourth chocolate in the box of nine. And for a very brief moment she thanked Merlin that the supposed twelve were not wholly accounted for; Hermione wasn’t sure how many mystery chocolates she could handle in total, let alone in one evening. Her body was shifting, more so because he was moving to sit up and very quickly she found herself sitting up as well, reaching for her robe.

“Well that was—”

“Please,” he muttered. “Always with the talking, the commentary, the questions,” he sighed. “Can’t you ever just be silent?”

Hermione flushed but dismissed it quickly and rolled her eyes. “No, I cannot, Severus.” She stood up for a moment to slide fully into her robe before sitting down beside him on the bed. “My mind is always churning, my thoughts always firing, I cannot be silent because the din inside my mind roars at such a thunder that if I don’t let it escape through my mouth I shall go deaf.” She surprised even herself with such words, but held her own in having said them, refusing to blush or to look embarrassed.

She could not control the slight tremble that shivered up her spine when he placed his hand atop her thigh. It was a simple gesture; Severus placed his palm over her exposed skin, just above her kneecap below the hem of her robe. But it was a gesture that spoke volumes. Whether he meant to comfort her for the sake of quelling her nerves in that moment or because he could relate to what she’d shared, Hermione hadn’t a clue. But she found in that moment that she didn’t care what the reason. There was comfort in his touch, always; even when it frightened her, she found something comforting in the contact.

“Do you think he’ll push us to get through the other six tonight?” she asked after only a few seconds of silence. It was all she could tolerate in that moment, too many other things still shifting through her mind, not the least of which was the after-hum of pleasure from the first three chocolates that they had tested.

Severus gave a small shrug. “I suspect not, Lustipops or not the body can only take so much before being burnt out. If each of those remaining are as intense or as potent as the first three, I daresay just one more— two at most— before we shall both find ourselves spent for the evening.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t suppose you’ve a preference?”

He snorted. “You speak as if these novelty products would cross my path of interest in some capacity.” There was a brief pause before he turned his head to the side and caught her gaze. “Short of this job, I assure you, such novelties hold no interest for me.”

She would have loved to have ventured down that rabbit hole further, but even if George hadn’t shouted on his way down the stairs, she very much doubted that Severus would have gone into any great length or detail regarding the matter, even if they had been alone together at Spinner’s End. She sighed quietly, feeling his hand withdraw from her skin, noting the cooler air of the room that replaced the warmth of his palm. It was a miniscule loss but a loss just the same, though she would grieve it with nothing more than her sigh.

“Right, so…if you’re up for another go—”

George’s words were halted abruptly as Severus stood up. “I will caution, Mister Weasley, there may be six of those chocolate concoctions remaining but you’ll have one more…possibly two…for the evening, unless you wish the both of us to be completely decommissioned for the next several days.” His tone was cautionary. It was not unlike the warning tone she had recalled hearing so many years ago in Potions class. Only it was nothing like that tone from Potions class, as Severus never gave such calm warnings to a classroom full of dunderheads.

“Oh! Right, right! Of course,” said George, blushing slightly. “Erm, maybe just one more then. Hermione, is that alright? One more and we’ll—” he paused. “Actually, we can do one more and then probably call it a night. I’ve got loads of prep work to do before the convention and if you’re both feeling worn down…so one more?”

Hermione nodded. “One more should do us fine,” she said, immediately wishing she hadn’t spoken for him. But he did not show disproval nor did he protest. George held up the box once more and Hermione peered carefully into it. Already they’d devoured a chocolate that had set Severus’ manhood aflame, followed by an enchantment that got them dirty both figuratively and literally. And the last one had been a warped version of something from a childhood story she’d recalled reading, only the chocolate had resulted in naughty pleasure rather than the vile illustration of one of the seven deadly sins. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve no idea, just pick one,” she said, half to George, but mostly to Severus.

If he was caught off guard by anything, her tone or sudden suggestion that he take charge, Severus didn’t show it. Hermione watched his slender, spidery digits hover for but a moment over the remaining six chocolates before plucking one up from the box. It was ordinary, save for the fact that it was tinted entirely lavender. She could only imagine what horrors awaited them. Despite its innocuous coloration, Hermione was certain something disastrous would happen when they bit into the chocolate. Lavender was meant to be calming, but at present all she felt was anxious. Choosing not to hesitate when the chocolate was offered to her, Hermione bit into it, failing to notice that he had already taken the first bite.

A strange flavor flooded her mouth. It wouldn’t have been so strange if anything about the chocolates they were testing had been ordinary, because the lavender tinted chocolate tasted like lavender and chocolate. It took a moment for Hermione’s brain to process this concept. It was silken, smooth almost like a ganache that had liquefied slowly, dripping gently down her tongue and back into her throat. It was not altogether unpleasant, but rather a curious taste. Floral fragrances were not Hermione’s pleasure, though lavender was one of the ones that she tolerated. Mixing it with chocolate, however, was an entirely different matter.

“Anything?” asked George. His voice sounded far away.

Hermione glanced up and down her body, half expecting to be tinted a shade of pale purple, and she slowly shook her head. This caused a slight dizzying sensation and for a moment her eyes swam around, blurring her vision. She locked eyes with Severus and then the moment passed, though she still held his gaze. Whatever dizzying notion the chocolate had brought forth seemed to vanish. Or perhaps it was still with her; it was difficult to tell. She could feel the room moving around her; it was a bizarre and difficult sensation to describe. The voices, Severus’ and George’s, sounded far away though she could see them plainly before her, albeit fuzzy in their outline.

She blinked her eyes. Open, closed, open again and then she was back on the bed, his body atop her. The heat of him bore down into her skin and she could feel his heart thudding in his chest as if it were echoing inside her ears. There was a pressure; it was his cock pushing into her, but the sensation was muted somehow. She blinked her eyes once more. Open, closed, open again and she could feel little beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, just beneath his hair, where her hand was now tangled. More pressure, he was thrusting into her with more speed, though still it all felt muted. She could feel a haze settling over her own body; she could smell the musk that was them when their bodies were entwined but everything was fuzzy. Open, closed, open, another blink. He had collapsed atop her; there was heat and sticky wetness between them, her chest heaving against his and Severus gently panting for breath near her ear. And then there was a sweep of darkness, for but a moment or maybe a life time, she couldn’t tell.

“Hermione,” it was George’s voice, just beside her ear, sharp and clear as a bell. “Oi, Hermione!”

She scrunched her nose, twitched, and opened her eyes. She was laying back on the bed in the workshop and could just see Severus’ slender figure, once more concealed in his robe, perched at the foot of it. She sprang up, albeit too quickly, and nearly had to lie back once more. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” she cried.

“I was hoping you could tell us. I don’t really know what I was seeing— he was out of it, you were out of it— and yet…” George shook his head. “I think that one’s a formulaic complication…or something gone wrong,” he muttered.

“An astute observation, Mr. Weasley, though I believe its effect was as intended,” said Severus, though he had not moved to face her or stand from the edge of the bed.

Hermione hardly noticed that she was still completely naked until the chill of the room swept across her skin and she shivered. She clutched around for her robe, and slipped into it before pulling herself fully upright and into a seated position just beside him. She noted how he flinched when their thighs brushed, and more alarmingly how he shifted away from her. Her lower lip was pressed between her teeth at once; her mind racing as she chewed at it, trying to scrounge together less foggy details of what had just happened.

“It’s all rather blurry,” she confessed. “I— there was this haziness…and I kept blinking…almost in slow motion but time was lapsing between my blinking…and he— and we—” she scoffed. “I don’t quite know what to say,” she shook her head, having given up on trying to catch Severus’ eye.

“A relaxant,” said Severus rather flatly. “Too potent, but meant to create a hazy experience for both partners…perhaps two lovers who need to relax to enjoy one another’s company,” he posited but then abruptly rose from the bed. “An unwise concoction, Mr. Weasley. Far too many nefarious undertakings…” he cast a stern glance at the red-head before stalking across the workshop. “You said we were finished for the evening?”

George frowned. “What do you mean?” he scrunched up his nose, not following Severus’ statement. “Was it the same for you, Severus? The haziness? The blurriness? If you’re both experiencing the same—”

Severus whipped around, cold, calculating eyes all but drilling into George. “Yes and what if one person were not to partake of the chocolate, Mr. Weasley? What then?” he restrained a groan when it appeared that George’s only response was to stare at him, a gormless look of misunderstanding painted on his face. “Use your brain, Weasley,” he snapped. “How readily this could be treated like a date-rape aid if only one person is made to ingest it. A seemingly innocent offer of floral chocolate…rendering its imbiber in a semi-conscious half-aware state? Disastrous.”

“Merlin’s beard!” George cried. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he snatched at the ledger. “I suppose this one will have to go…” he began to scribble once more into the ledger book. “Yes, I see what you mean,” he was muttering aloud more to himself than to Severus. George began to stalk toward the staircase that led up to his flat, ledger in his arms, quill still flitting about the parchment as he walked. “You can go, I’ll send an owl around for tomorrow,” he called and with haste, he disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione was stunned. Severus had lashed out and it didn’t take the third eye to see that he was shaken by the experience. Her instinct was to rush to him, attempt to comfort him in the only way she knew how. But this was Severus Snape, and despite the familiarity which she had developed with him, coddling him with hugs and sensual nuzzling touches was simply not going to be the answer; if anything it would make the situation worse. But her feet moved more quickly than the good sense in her brain and she was standing behind him, a trembling hand reaching up to touch his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Severus commanded, his words severe. He whipped around, taking a step back from her. It placed a space between them. His eyes were clouded, shrouded in unreadable darkness. But this was different. This was defensive. Hermione, possibly insane from all that had happened to that point, and possibly having finally cracked in what was left of her faculties, braced herself, grounding her bare feet into the hardwood floor of the workshop. She reached her hands out to touch him, grasping quite suddenly at his forearms. “I said don’t!” he snarled, jerking his arms back.

“Legilimens!” she cried for all she was worth.

It was enough, and only just so. The chink in his armor, the fault in his guard, she crashed through his impervious mind in that moment, if only briefly. Severus was so stunned, so unprepared for such a brazen move that he had not been able to ward off her intrusion into his mind. Her touch against his skin burned, distracting him all the more in that moment and she lingered for but a moment more. Hermione could see flashes of images darting past her eyes; there was mostly darkness and horrid sounds, but what she could see was gruesome. Witches, splayed beneath him, quaking, crying, bleeding; only it wasn’t him but a cloaked figure in that silver mask. She couldn’t take it all in, she couldn’t focus on some of the images and memories as they raced by her. And then she was being squeezed; she was being dragged, by the hair, and pulled from his mind.

Hermione fell back onto the floor of the workshop, panting and gasping. She gazed up at Severus, surprised to find that he too had fallen to the floor. He looked ghostly; the whitest shade of pale that she had ever seen in human skin now painted his face. He was sweating, something she had rarely witnessed in him. And his eyes burned black with an unforgivable fury. The bottom of her stomach dropped for just a moment and for the first time since the war, she found herself well and truly frightened. She was terrified. Words failed her. Movement failed her. She was paralyzed, frozen with fear, and perhaps a bit more than shocked. She couldn’t fathom what had come over her, why she had thought that forcing her way into his mind in that instant of vulnerability would solve anything. It had surprised her all the more that she’d actually broken through, though no amount of confidence in her ability to push her way into his mind could have prepared her for what she had encountered there.

Severus Snape had been a Death Eater. She had known that; she had accepted that, at least she thought she had. She had not known that such nightmarish memories would surface from what they were playing with in the workshop. She had not expected it to impact him so deeply. It turned her stomach on multiple levels, but perhaps the worst of all being that she was helpless in the situation and her desperate need to help him made her feel selfish. It seemed some time before she could find even the slightest bit of air to draw in, hoping that words would soon follow breath.

“If you ever do that again I shall obliterate your memory to within an inch of your life, consequences be damned,” he hissed. Severus was at once on his feet, storming with great haste over to where his robes were hung.

Hermione felt a ripple of terror strike through her. Only it was not his threat that had done so. Steeped deep in the madness that had compelled her to such outrageous actions, Hermione feared that she had undone everything in one stupid attempt to understand him further. She couldn’t fully explain it, but mustered some semblance of strength and courage, forcing herself to her feet. She tore after him. “No,” she demanded. “You’ve stormed my mind before, Severus Snape—”

He whirled around, careful to loom over her without touching her. “You’ve no right. You’ve no idea what you’re doing. You’ve no idea what you’re—”

“You’ve no right!” she shrieked. At once Hermione grabbed his forearms, and though he was quick to jerk back, he was not quick enough to entirely evade her grasp. “You’ve no right,” she spat, tears all but streaming down her cheeks now. “You think you are the only one that has things best left unseen by others? You think it’s pleasant having you invade my mind in what you say is an attempt to help me through?”

Severus flinched, yanking his arm back from her, but she held fast, keeping her fingers gripped tightly around him like claws. “You are a child,” he snapped. “A child, Hermione— you may be grown in body and far beyond your school years but you are a child. You are still innocent and naïve and stupid—”

Hermione made to slap him with her free hand, no longer in control of her surge of emotions. But his hand caught hers. She struggled. She squeezed her other hand tight against his forearm, but he squeezed her harder. They’d gotten turned about somehow; Hermione’s back was now pressed against the wall near where their clothes hung and he was now pressing the fullness of his body and all of his weight against her into it. “Stop it,” he snapped. “Stop it. Stop it! STOP.” The command was harsh, and so loud that she was certain George would come barreling down the stairs at any moment to break up their quarrel.

But there was silence. No George running down the steps into the workshop, no Severus shouting at her, no words of her own flying out at him. Just silence and their bodies pressed tightly together. Hermione winced; his grip was biting into the flesh of her wrists so firmly she was certain he might break them. Her voice cried out in pain but the words wouldn’t form. He was panting and she was sobbing. She could not bring herself to meet his gaze, her heart racing with surefire fear in that moment. She trembled, her head falling forward. “You are a monster,” she whispered through broken tears. The voice she heard hardly sounded like her own. It was a scared and trembling Hermione that she herself did not recognize. And that scared her more than anything else that was happening in that moment.

“I have said that from the beginning, you insufferable, insipid witch.” His voice was a low hiss, barely breath over words. His grip did not relinquish on her wrists, the weight of his body did not relent from pressing her further into the wall. She half expected to be crushed by him in that moment. It was unbearable.

“No,” she spat, struggling to push against him, though he held her firmly in place, his grip tightening the more she twisted her arms. “You are a monster, no one can deny that, but you’ve no right to act monstrous to me. You’ve no right to— to— you’ve no right to—”

The slender, firm weight of his index finger pressed hard against her lips. He had released one wrist completely, loosening the hold on her other one, and the weight of his body eased somewhat though he did not step back from her. Hermione all but collapsed. She would have sunk to the floor had he not physically been pinning her to the wall. Hermione could not understand the inexplicable surge of torrential emotional typhoon that had just spewed forth from them both. The last fifteen minutes needed a time-turner and then some. But instead she stood perfectly still, smashed between him and the wall, his finger on her lips. A silence passed between them; the night seemed structured around these unending silences. The surprise that came to them both was that he spoke first.

“This ends here and now,” he said, slowly, deliberately. “You will return to Spinner’s End, gather your things, and leave in the morning. I shall find other accommodations for the night,” he did not pause for more than a breath. “I shall inform Mister Weasley in the morning that I am discontinuing my contract with him for this line of work and that he should do his best to find my replacement for the convention.” Severus slowly let his finger slide down her lips before falling away from her face. He stepped but a half step back from her, their bodies no longer touching. “This ends now.” He repeated.

Hermione’s lips were trembling. “Coward,” she whimpered.

“You will not goad me into anything that way, Miss Granger,” he said sharply. “Do not—”

“You are a coward, Severus,” she whispered, her voice growing stronger in that moment. “You run from your past, you cower from your memories, you push away everyone that shows you love and compassion, you hide from your darkness, you shut out everything and everyone that would force you to reconcile with it— you are a coward.”

In another world, in that exact moment of time, Severus Snape hauled back his arm and slapped her with such a sting that it nearly broke his hand. Or he shook her violently before crushing his lips to hers. Or he spun elegantly on his heel without a word or backwards glance, stalked out of the workshop, and disappeared without a trace. Three such possibilities and a half dozen more seemed to blur before Hermione’s eyes as if she could see every possible outcome to her current situation all at once. But none of what she briefly envisioned or imagined prepared her for what actually happened. Severus began to cry.

It was not a heavy, ugly, sob the way she had bawled at times when her emotions overtook her. It was not a stream of silent tears nor a mere trickle of a few errant salt drops on his cheek. He was crying, a quiet and oddly dignified cry with the slightest sniffling as the tears streamed steadily down his face. The sound was small, so small she was almost unsure if she heard it, but Severus Snape stood before her crying, eyes quivering and red. She watched frozen to the spot, her back still pressed against the wall as if he were still pinning her there, as he sank almost in slow motion to his knees. His frame shook, her shoulders hunching in over himself as he raked trembling fingers into his hair before collapsing completely to the floor, burying his face against his knees.

To say that Hermione was stunned was an understatement. She could still feel the sting of his vice-like grip on her wrists. In a bizarre moment of petrified clarity, she managed to summon her wand, but could do little else than cast the simplest of spells— a Muffliato Charm— around the two of them before she felt her own body sliding to the floor. Bereft of words and sense, Hermione stared at him, wondering how her face had become so wet. It took her a moment to realize that she too was crying, though rather more silently than she had ever recalled crying. She longed for a great many things and for nothing at all in that moment. She needed to touch him; not to comfort him but because she herself desperately needed the skin to skin comfort of contact. And yet she needed to be as far from him as humanly possible in that moment. But she could do neither.

Hours passed; minutes passed. Hermione couldn’t tell how time had moved or if it was even moving at all. Her eyes stung; they were swollen and dry. She felt as if she had no more tears left to cry. With breaths too shaky to formulate words, she tried to calm herself, rubbing furiously at her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to force the remnant of tears from them. She could see him there, just inches in front of her, still hunched over himself, still trembling with tears, still crying ever so quietly. More hours and minutes passed, or perhaps they didn’t, but it was sometime before she was finally able to pull herself to her feet.

Hermione didn’t reach for her clothes. She didn’t dress herself, she didn’t even really draw her robe tightly around her figure. For a moment she stood stone still staring at his still-trembling figure, though somewhere in the back of her mind she noted that the sound of his crying had stilled. With a slow sigh, Hermione took one step toward the workshop door. “I’m going home,” she whispered, her voice a broken croak. “You come home when you’re ready.”


	21. Who's The Monster Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I have been so hesitant about updating to this chapter. STRONG WARNINGS AHEAD!!! This chapter in particular is going to set a lot of people’s teeth on edge. It spun my head right round trying to write it out. There is so much wrong here— the psychological damage that these two are enduring is honestly brutal. There are multiple warnings that accompany this particular chapter, especially for those with triggers. 
> 
> There is strong violence in this chapter, there is graphic violence in this chapter, there is semi-graphic rape in this chapter, in addition to the usual smut. 
> 
> This chapter features a series of flashbacks. The predominant violence happens in the first flashback (as indicated by the ~*~ and occurring immediately thereafter) as does the graphic violence and the graphic rape. The jump back to present time will be indicated by **~** though I cannot make promises that the first bit prior to the flashback will make much cohesive sense if you need to skip the flashback for trigger reasons. 
> 
> There is a point at which a pensieve is involved in the aforementioned flashback. I've tried to put the entirety of the pensieve scene in Italics. If you can handle mild violence but not rape, once they encounter the pensieve, proceed to skip down to the paragraph that starts with **“She felt it then, the nauseating tug of being pulled back from a memory, being yanked up out of a pensieve.”** And trust that the memory therein contains graphic violence and a graphic rape scene regarding Severus’ time in the service of Voldemort. 
> 
> I’m very anxious about the way this chapter is received. A lot of heavy and brutal darkness like this isn’t everyone’s cuppa tea— honestly it isn’t mine— but it’s where the story bent, and to stay true to the muses and everything they’ve endured thus far…I felt it had to go there. 
> 
> I’m very nervous and have been stalling with posting it for that exact reason. The road’s about to get bumpy. You’ve got to push through the darkness to get to the light, often getting darker before it gets lighter. But remember, always, even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. 
> 
> My apologies for the heavy and sudden turn that this has taken, but after that last chapter ending the way it did, which was an honest surprise to me, it appears we’re going to delve a whole lot deeper before things have any hope of getting better. In a sense, it reminds me of the original canon in that it started out light and fun with a hint of darkness…but got heavy and dark in a hurry. There will be humor and light again, I think.

“And still nothing?” George’s voice was urgent, almost desperate. 

“No, George,” said Hermione. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes directly for fear he would somehow see that she was lying. “He said he would owl just as soon as—”

“Yes, yes, I know. Just as soon as he was able,” George grumbled. “But this is— I mean— he does realize there’s less than a week until we’re due at the convention, right? I mean— we’ve been building up to this for ages— and to have an emergency is one thing— but to just— I mean— just up and vanish like this?” George shook his head. “Are you sure you two didn’t have a row or something? I mean, you two were awfully close there and if maybe you two could just kiss and make up until after the convention is over—”

“George!’ Hermione snapped. “We did not have a row.” She huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” and for effect she rolled her eyes. “Just because you saw us snogging one night out in the street does not mean we were together! I mean for crying out loud you see us shagging practically around the clock in there—”

“Yeah but that’s in there and you two—”

“Enough, George, honestly!” she cried with great exasperation. “We aren’t together. We weren’t together. I know no more than you do. I know he’s a man of his word and if he said he’s dealing with an emergency, it must be an emergency.” She could feel her heart threatening to rupture inside her chest, leap up through her throat and spew the truth all over George’s face. “Really, I have to go. I’m late.” She turned swiftly around and shuffled back through the main shop door, bumping into a few school-aged boys as she did. 

“Let me know the moment you hear from him!” she heard him cry as the door swung shut behind her. The only reason she’d gone down to the shop was because he’d kept owling. Hermione had feared that George might pop round Spinner’s End and that would have been disastrous. She couldn’t bear it. She bustled quickly around the corner, all but screamed out in frustration, and then with a loud crack apparated back to Spinner’s End. 

Night was nearly there. The sun had all but set, the street lamps were on, the temperature cooled, and she was beside herself. They should have been at the workshop with George testing any number of things or at the very least making last minute preparations for the convention. But two weeks’ time had passed since that night in the workshop and neither of them had been with George to do much of anything. The first 24 hours had been the worst. She had apparated back to Spinner’s End and splinched herself in the process. Just the tip of her right pinky finger but just the same it had stung like the dickens. But she’d been too exhausted and too drained to do anything about it. She hadn’t even been able to drag herself to the bathroom to soak. Hermione had barely made it to bed before collapsing from emotional exhaustion. 

When she awoke sometime in the late morning hours, she feared all number of things. Mostly she regretted a great many things, but none so great as calling him a monster. Invading his mind she could live with, even if she had been in the wrong. And calling him a coward, though equally as wrong, was nothing that he hadn’t heard from Harry Potter himself before. It was when her tongue had let loose those four simple and unforgivable words. “You are a monster.” Her blood ran cold just replaying them in her mind. And not once but twice. Twice she had dared to slap him in his face with his past. Heat of the moment or not, it was unforgiveable. And even if in some inconceivable world he was able to forgive her, she wasn’t certain she would ever forgive herself. 

Mindlessly she’d made tea, all the while dwelling on her grave error of words. A quick search of the place revealed Spinner’s End to be empty. Though she was surprised to find the tip of her pinky resting casually on the kitchen table as if it were a napkin or piece of fruit. He had been there. Though when and for how long she couldn’t say. That put a burning lump of dread in her stomach beyond what tea or any food could settle. She had, however, managed to reattach her fingertip without issue. Hermione spent the rest of the day searching desperately for him, even going so far as to attempt to visit some of the gay muggle nightclubs she knew of, but to no avail. Of course she hadn’t the faintest idea what she would do if she had found him.

But that had been two weeks ago, just after the entire thing had blown itself to smithereens. That was a lifetime ago, or so it felt. Now she had returned back to Spinner’s End, flustered after having to yet again lie to George. It was bad enough she’d been penning him owls, not knowing what else to do when he’d started inquiring about why neither of them had come to the workshop. She had flat out lied to George. She had fabricated some nonsense about Severus’ having to deal with an emergency. It was the first thing that had come to mind but its plausibility was treading dangerously on thin ice. 

Hermione had just stepped into the hallway that led to the two bedrooms. She was just at her door when his door opened, causing her to freeze. Her entire body stiffened, but she kept her head turned away from where she knew he was now standing. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, her lungs tightening as she held her breath. Would he speak? Should she? Her mind swam. She could feel the back of her eyes beginning to prick. There were never enough words now, which was a difficult thing to understand as she had always had words as her security blanket. But now— in the time since that night— they failed her completely. 

“Having a shower,” his voice was a whisper. 

She exhaled heavily and nodded. Two silent tears trickled down her cheek as she felt him slip past her, not touching her, and disappear into the bathroom. But the door was left open. She sobbed, choking back the sound into her hand as she did. Once upon a time, from a stamp in their history that felt almost as if it never existed, a slightly ajar bathroom door was a cheeky invitation. Now it brought only a twisted sense of need and obligation into her being. Hermione wasn’t sure what was more unbearable— what had happened or what was happening. Forcing herself to step into her room, she flung herself down onto her bed but only for a moment. Before she could help herself or stop herself, she was back on her feet, stripping out of her clothes, letting them lie where they fell and all but scampering across the hall into the bathroom. 

The water was already blasting, steam filling the room. The shower curtain was drawn, mostly drawn, and for a moment she hesitated. She could feel her stomach lurching. Part of her wanted to run from the bathroom, race out of the house entirely and disappear. She didn’t care where— she had half a mind to disappear indefinitely— and had been considering such thoughts for a fortnight. But a part of her needed to stay. A part of her needed this, needed him, needed whatever warped, unruly, unhealthy thing they had become because on some level she believed it was the only thing keeping her sane. It was the only thing keeping her alive. And on some deeper level she knew that without it she had nothing at all. 

Hermione stood naked, feet on the bathroom tile, toes tapping for a moment as she chewed her bottom lip. In the time before, he would have snapped at her. He would have thrown a snarky comment at her, taunting her to either come in and take what she wanted or get out. She would have risen to the bait. They would have fucked until they were both senseless in the shower, perhaps ultimately ending in her bedroom with him fending off her need to cuddle. In a time before, she would have dared. But in that moment, all she could do was stand there, unsure of what to do. She fumbled around, grabbing for a towel, feeling quite foolish rather suddenly for standing there fully exposed. She wrapped the towel tightly around her body, trying not to think about it. In the time before, it wouldn’t have mattered. She had almost lost all sense of modesty around him when it came to her exposed body. But all of that seemed to disappear with what had come between them. 

Now there was a darkness suffocating them. Now there was an emptiness. And it hadn’t just been her invading his mind that night. It had gotten so much worse, far beyond just calling him a monster. She had seen things she could never un-see and she had said things she could never unsay. She had brought about their destruction, but worse, she had undone him. 

~*~

“Severus, stop it!” she cried, struggling against him. He was strong. Stronger than her. His grip was tight around her wrists, pulling her hard toward the door. “Severus, you’re hurting me!” she cried once more. Hermione ground her weight against him, pushing back, desperately trying anything and everything she could to break free of him. Short of snapping her own wrist she could not manage to escape the way he held her. If she lifted her leg to kick him full out, she would fall before her foot or knee could ever make contact. He was stronger and taller and more muscular than her, and always had been, and therefore had the physical advantage. She had called him a monster and he was proving himself with brute strength and force then and there. Her mind was reeling. “Stop!” she cried once more, grunting and breaking into a sweat as she pushed back against him. He tried again to force her against the front door of Spinner’s End. He grunted, she growled, and the pair were deadlocked against one another. “Severus!” her throat was hoarse from screaming. How had it come to this?

24 hours had passed before he’d finally appeared at Spinner’s End. She had only returned moments before he had arrived. She had given up searching the gay muggle night clubs, realizing that he was a master of many things— including being all but invisible when he wanted to be. She was still drained from their encounter in the workshop the night prior and although she had slept— and reattached the tip of her pinky finger— she had not really recovered from the ordeal. And now she felt as if she were struggling for her very life. 

He had barked a simple command when he’d first stepped through the door and into the kitchen. She had been standing there, absently twirling a fork around not unlike a mermaid, before stabbing it into a pile of her hair swept up messily atop her head. She was caught off guard by his sudden appearance, but had been prepared for those two words, knowing that after he’d spent 24 hours out of his home he would expect to return and find it empty. But she had made up her mind that they would talk, at the very least they could do that. She would find a way to apologize as best she could; she would make him hear her if it killed her. And she was as stubborn as he could be, she knew that about herself no matter what the circumstance. 

So when he’d barked at her, really rather he’d hissed at her, “Get Out”, she had stood her ground. 

Hermione had stood defiantly with her back against the kitchen counter, refusing to move or utter a word. It was that same kitchen counter upon which he’d placed her when he’d first exposed to her his tongue between her legs. That glorious reverie had not been given much thought as of late but how thrilling it had felt then; his hot breath quivering against her slick skin, the way his tongue stroked between her folds, circled and prodded at her clit. It had been sheer ecstasy. But such thoughts were hardly appropriate in that moment. She narrowed her eyes at him, all but daring him to say it again. Though she didn’t call upon her own voice to respond. Hermione simply stood there, back to the counter, eyes locked on his, heart thumping away inside her chest. She waited. 

It happened so suddenly that she hardly had time to scream, yet the sound found a way to escape and now her head was stinging. He’d stalked forward in a flash and with one rapid, deft gesture, he snatched the fork out of her hair, tearing several strands of her locks along with it in the process. “Get. Out.” He seethed. 

She could feel the water prickling at the corners of her eyes, not so much in fear of him or upset but from the physical pain of having her hair yanked from her head along with the fork as he’d ripped it away from her. Hermione drew back her hand to slap him but he caught her wrist tight, making her whimper. “Do not make me say it again,” he sneered. 

This was a rage she had not encountered before. This was a side of him that had only haunted her nightmares; this was not Severus Snape in any capacity in which she had previously encountered him. Even when he had been frothing at the mouth, shouting at the top of his lungs with Nigel, she had not seen this. The man before her in that moment was a stranger possessed with fury and it did frighten her. But on some deeper plane of consciousness, Hermione knew that despite the demon that stood before her, one hand clamped hard around her wrist, the other still holding the fork with strands of her hair caught between the tines, somewhere beneath the hatred, rage, fear, and fury was Severus Snape, the man she knew she loved. Somewhere struggling for breath against the prevalent monster was the man whose touch she craved above all. She growled, trying desperately once more to twist away. 

“And if I don’t?” Hermione hardly recognized her own voice, it was timid and quaking, not at all as courageous or confident as she had imagined she would have sounded. 

Severus growled. There were no words, only swift movements. It again caught Hermione off guard and off balance and she cried out as the fork clattered to the floor, one of his hands twisting into her hair, the other still around her wrist. He hauled her out into the hallway. Hermione scrambled, her feet kicking the floor beneath her before she could manage proper purchase and ground her weight down. Her free hand swung up and clocked the underside of his jaw, sending him tumbling against the wall and she with him as his grip did not release on her wrist nor her hair despite being punched. They both cried out.

The ardent passion of lovers was a dangerous weapon of mass destruction when placed in the hands of those at war. Those who knew how to love one another could do more damage to one another than strangers on the street ever could. And Hermione was experiencing that now. It was a blur. And a brawl. Shouts and screams and wild blind grasps at hair and limbs, strands of slick black and curly brown coming loose in each other’s fingers as Hermione and Severus grabbed at one another, she trying to hold her ground and fight back, he dead-set on dragging her to the front door. She had screamed herself raw, begging, pleading, shouting, and could feel her body growing weaker, but still he persisted. In a last ditch effort that she knew would upend them both, she flung her knee out wide, losing her balance as she did, and they fell to the ground, her kicking and he growling. 

Severus landed atop her and pinned her down. One strong arm grabbed at both of her wrists, twisting them high above her head and holding them there, pinning her hard to the floor. He was straddled over her, crushing his weight down on her, his chest heaving. Hermione’s chest was heaving. Severus was baring down upon her body. They were both panting heavily. Had this been some other time and some other place she would have been screaming his name, pleading for him in some other fashion. But this circumstance had her filled with dread and a strange sense of panic began to flood her veins. Hermione could feel her mind spiraling quickly out of control and she needed to escape from under him before she did something rash. 

She bucked beneath him, trying to topple him, trying to upend him, but he held firm to her wrists and locked his legs over her, forcing her hips down into the floorboards. Her eyes were wide and she was seized with an unfathomable fright. It was the most powerful fear that she had felt since the war. She felt his other hand draw down, grabbing at her right hip. She shrieked. 

“No!” a waterfall of sudden and inexplicable tears burst forth down her face. “Please— Severus, please—” her raw broken sobs tore through the room, her body struggling madly beneath him as he continued to grab at her hip. She was blind with tears, her heart thundering so hard she was certain it would explode. “Please! Please, Severus— no!” she cried, bucking madly trying to escape out from under him with renewed urgency. “Don’t rape me!” she sobbed, trying desperately to kick and squirm, anything to get out from under him, thrashing wildly about against his hand, all but breaking her own wrists in the process. 

His eyes flew wide and he stared at her. 

The room seemed to stop. 

But the echoes of her words hung there in the silence. 

A night ago the worst thing she ever could have said to him had been hurled at him in a fit of blind childishness. Until that moment when she seemed to have lost her mind entirely. Three words worse than calling him a monster had left her lips and she could hardly believe that she had said them. He was no longer baring his weight down against her hips. And she noted through gasps and trembling breaths that the hand that had been grabbing at her hip was now limp at his side. Hermione was frightened. What on earth had possessed her to cry out in such a way? 

Had she any slivers of a rational mind left, she never would have said those words; truly in her heart of hearts, despite his wicked temper and the irrational physical brawl in which they had just engaged, she did not believe that he would ever do such a thing. Not to her. Even if it had been a part of his past as so many had speculated, it was not who he was and it was not something he would do. Not to her. 

Her chest seized and she felt her heart stop. His entire body was rigid, his face drained of the heat and color from their rumble. For the first time Severus’ eyes were clear and overflowing with readable emotions. He was stunned, he was astonished, but worst of all he was broken. He was completely and utterly broken. And what little was left inside of her broke in that moment too. 

The weight lifted from her hips entirely and her wrists fell limp above her head. For a moment, Hermione had no idea what was happening. And then she was being hauled to her feet, both of his hands on her once again. She whimpered as he grabbed her around the shoulder and pushed her hard before ensnaring her forearm— fingers curling tightly around her scar— and dragging her down the hallway, into his bedroom. She was sobbing now and couldn’t help herself as she was thrust away from him. Hermione stumbled and fell down onto his mattress. There was a clang that made her jump and a heavy cauldron appeared from somewhere. But before she could get her bearings, calm herself or breathe, she was being shoved into the cauldron, headlong, with his hand still pinching like a vice against her shoulder. 

Hermione tumbled into the pensieve without realizing that was what was happening. She longed to cry out, but found that she had no voice. She tried to gasp for air but seemed to have no lungs. Over and over she tumbled, further down she went. Darkness consumed her; it surrounded her like a smothering blanket. And then the falling stopped. She was in darkness; all save for a few dim candles glowing overhead. She could not see him— not the real him— but she could feel him just behind her. Terror swept through her in that moment. She tried to focus her eyes, but soon there was no need as more light seemed to flood into the room. 

_Torches, bobbing and listing, lit on the walls of the chamber in which she found herself. It was some sort of dungeon or castle, the heavy stone cold and dark all around them. Her mind was screaming, though she had no physical voice. She was in a pensieve— his pensieve. This was one of his memories. But why did it frighten her so? Had they not been lost in a labyrinth of darkness that had dominated them ever since she’d called him monster, Hermione might have rejoiced at the prospect of being exposed to something as intimate as his memories. But in that moment she recalled what had happened just prior to her being forced into the pensieve. She had been pinned to the ground beneath him and all his fury, crying out words that were foreign to her own ear, begging him not to do an atrocious thing to her. And now she was here, inside his memory, standing just on the edges of this nightmare._

_Things happened quickly. There was an anguished cry and before her eyes a woman— a witch— was thrown violently to the ground, the sound of her body slapping against the stone thundering through the space. Hermione’s stomach lurched. She knew that witch— or at least thought she did. A muggleborn shopkeeper from Hogsmeade, from her days as a student. The woman trembled violently on the floor, jibbering and shaking as tears streamed down her face. She cried out as the shadows advanced around her. It was only then that Hermione noticed them. The dark and looming, ominous shadows encircling this poor woman. Only they weren’t shadows; they were figures. They were cloaked figures, with glinting silvery masks obscuring their faces. Hermione was watching a circle of Death Eaters closing in on a muggleborn witch that they had no doubt abducted for sport._

_“Got us a good one,” growled one of the voices. It was a gruff sound, not a voice she recognized._

_“Fine, filthy mudblood,” cackled another. This was a voice that Hermione did recognize. Scabior. Her blood ran cold. He was one of five snatchers that had captured them in the Forest of Dean. It was a voice Hermione would never forget so long as she lived; often it had haunted her dreams, forcing her to relive what ultimately became her most brutal night of torture at the hands of that mad woman, Bellatrix LeStrange._

_There were five or six, it was difficult to tell as they circled around the poor, shrieking witch. She went cross-eyed trying to count them, noting finally that there were seven. Voices that were revolting, though only the one was recognizable. And although the jeering and taunting seemed to happen at hyper speed, she was certain she could only discern six different voices. She blinked hard and counted them again as they continued to circle around the trembling witch. There were seven Death Eaters but only six voices._

_Hermione longed to tear her eyes away; she longed to crawl out of the pensieve and away from this horrific apparition. But she was frozen to the spot, forced to look onward. And then things began to move faster; the memory was speeding up. It was a blur of motion, as one and then another of these masked Death Eaters began to grab at the poor, screaming witch. Hands tore at her, tugging her hair, ripping her clothing, bashing her against the floor and kicking at her. Blood appeared amid the screams, but the witch’s screams were being drowned out among the harsh laughter and cackles of the Death Eaters. It was moving too fast for her to be certain but one Death Eater, perhaps the silent one, only seemed to move amid them. And this was baffling to her. But it was too much to take in for her to be sure that that was what she was seeing._

_Without warning it began. Hermione could feel herself on the edge of vomiting as these men in their cloaks and hoods began to tug at this witch, violently grabbing at her limbs, not caring for the witch’s shrieks or moans of wretched pain. Scabior had forced her onto her knees in front of him and Hermione could just see him forcing his cock into her mouth. She longed to wretch. Another one stood behind the poor witch, ramming himself hard into her anus. The witch shrieked a blood curdling scream as her flesh was torn, but her cries only seemed to egg them on. Hermione could not bear to watch, and yet her eyes were unable to close._

_Then the whole scene slowed to a crawl. A door seemed to open and for a moment light poured into the dreary dungeon space. Everyone in the center stopped moving and making sounds, all except for the witch who was sobbing uncontrollably, trembling violently, and being held half up on her knees by a rough, gloved hand in her hair. Hermione saw him, saw them. The noseless face, the heinous horror that she had encountered near the Great War’s end, the Dark Lord himself, sweeping into the room, with a masked Death Eater beside him. The others in the circle paused and bowed, most only tilting their heads down._

_“And what have we here?” he hissed. Voldemort turned to the Death Eater that had entered with him, and nodded to him with one curt bounce of his head. That Death Eater bolted with haste back out the door through which they had come, and Hermione could make neither heads nor tails of it. But she noted how still and silent the room was, all except for the whimpering sobs of the bleeding, ruined witch being held up on display among them. “I said, what do we have here?” he repeated his question, a darkness glossing over his eyes._

_No one moved. No one spoke. Even the witch’s trembling was almost stilled. Voldemort stepped toward the circle and immediately they parted to allow the Dark Lord to sweep into their midst. He looked the witch over once. “Who’s is she?” he asked. But no one responded. “Do not try my patience,” he snapped. “I said—”_

_“A mudblood, My Lord. Brought in by Selwyn.” The voice that spoke numbed Hermione’s spine. It was Severus. The Death Eater whom she thought had only been moving about with them, had stepped forward and spoken. It was Severus. She noticed then that the six others were in various states of undress, most with their pricks hanging out of their robes, some with their robes pinned fully back to expose their legs. But not Severus, he was still fully disguised. Voldemort stared into his mask, a slight grin curling across the gash in his face that served as his lips. “And?”_

_“A blood traitor!” one cried._

_“Filthy slut!” another shouted._

_“Bleed her! Bleed her! Bleed her!” they began to chant, louder and louder._

_But the Dark Lord raised his hand, silencing them at once. There was a dark and sinister chuckle that arose from him. Voldemort eyed his subjects, lingering but a moment on each one and the way they were currently exposed. His eyes lingered on Severus a moment longer than the others. “Carry on,” hissed Voldemort. “But do let Severus join in your fun…” he nodded at Severus. “Do let Severus have a turn,” he added, that grin growing wider across his sallow face._

_Severus took a calculated step back into the center of the circle where the trembling, shaking, bleeding witch was being held upright. Hermione flinched, feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat. He stood just in front of the witch, and she whimpered, trying to draw away from him as he placed both of his hands on the side of her face just at her jaw. For a moment Hermione feared he would lean in and kiss her only to tear out her tongue with his own teeth. Or perhaps he would bite at her throat the way a wolf did its prey. But with a quick thrust of his hands, Severus jerked the witch’s head hard around her neck, several popping cracks echoing before her body collapsed to the floor, lifeless. A displeased roar rose up from the others, shouts of discord reigning over the room._

_A single raised hand from Voldemort silenced them. His cold, ruthless gaze rested on Severus. His gash of what were meant to be lips pursed into a frown. “Severus…”_

_“She was contaminated, My Lord,” he said simply, his tone unreadable, his face hidden from view behind the silvery wisps of his mask._

_“He always kills them before we’re finished having our fun!” growled one of the others._

_“He’s a traitor! The mudblood!” growled Scabior._

_The circle of Death Eaters advanced on Severus, though he made no motion to defend himself, standing perfectly still. Before they could close their ranks around him entirely, Voldemort had swept through them, gliding on air to stand between them and Severus. “Not very kind words for your brother, Scabior,” he hissed. “Severus is my most loyal servant…” his eyes were fixed on Scabior’s mask._

_No one dared speak out against Voldemort in that moment. Severus stood stark still, not even blinking as Voldemort placed his claw-like hand upon his shoulder. “My most. Loyal. Servant.” He hissed with emphasis. There was a quiet chuckle in the back of Voldemort’s throat that seemed to unnerve everyone. With but a gesture of Voldemort’s hand, a green blast of light shot forth aimed at the corpse on the floor, and the witch’s body was reduced to a pile of smoldering ash. “If my most loyal servant says she was contaminated…we had best not…take chances.”_

_Not a single sound was uttered. For a moment Hermione forgot she was only inside Severus’ pensieve, that this was just his memory and not her own hellish nightmare. For a moment she feared the Death Eaters would see her and drag her to the center of their circle. Her lungs burned as she’d been holding her breath for fear of being discovered. When Voldemort raised his hands, the group stepped back and she gasped, afraid they would back right into her. But she was only standing among them and in that moment she remembered she was watching a memory._

_“My most loyal servant…” Voldemort hissed again. And with a snap of his fingers, the door swung open once more. The room was once again filled with anguished cries. Another masked figure, the one who had entered with Voldemort the first time, reappeared. This was a Death Eater that Hermione was almost certain she knew even though he had not uttered a single word. For this Death Eater was the one whose silvery blonde hair was not quite concealed entirely behind his mask. But she hadn’t time to confirm whether or not it was Lucius Malfoy as her eyes were drawn to the struggling, squealing girl clutched in his grip._

_This girl was not a witch. Much to Hermione’s horror she recognized this woman too. A muggle from King’s Cross, a kindly girl who worked the coffee cart just near Platform 9¾. The girl’s sweet mocha skin and her springy hair was unforgettable. They’d chatted a few times over the years and Hermione had almost been certain the girl had been flirting with her, trying perhaps to ask her out. Her name was Zoe. But now the girl was bruised, one arm hanging limp at her side, broken. Mud and blood seemed to stick in her hair as if she’d been dragged through a bog on the way. The poor coffee cart girl was shoved roughly to the center of the circle, collapsing at Severus’ feet._

_“A present,” chuckled Voldemort. “Show them, Severus.” He said and pointed down. “Show them that you are my most loyal servant.” Hermione cried out; a silent sob tore over her lips as she watched the masked figure of Severus grab the girl around the throat before pulling her down to her knees. She watched in abject horror as he thrust his cock forward into her mouth, the girl gagging and sobbing all the while until he grabbed her up, flipped her around, and forced himself into her from behind. The wails were agony, mingled with the cheers and outcries from the other Death Eaters, who wasted no time in joining him, pushing and shoving to have their go at the girl’s limited orifices. A knife appeared at some point and was thrust into her side, giving another Death Eater a new point of entry to the girl’s body. But it was then that she saw Severus slip away, undetected by the others. Voldemort was gone, but the din roared on as Severus slipped out of the dungeon space and disappeared._

She felt it then, the nauseating tug of being pulled back from a memory, being yanked up out of a pensieve. Hermione could not get her feet beneath her and landed once more on the mattress in his bedroom but not before spewing the contents of her disturbed stomach all over the sheets. She continued to heave, dry-retching when nothing more would come forth from her stomach. There was no firm hand on her shoulder, no stern but reassuring voice to comfort her. She wasn’t even sure Severus was still in the room until she forced herself to look up and found him leaning heavy with his back against the door. 

This was not a Severus she had ever seen before either. He was flushed but not with desire or fury; he was overheated, panting hard, sweat sliding down his temple, his breathing erratic. He was undone. Not undone the way she had so desperately hoped to see him whilst in the throes of ecstasy, but unraveled. He was split wide open, vulnerable and bared, and there was nothing for it. She noted the silvery punctures at his neck, her eyes glancing furtively to his forearm, but his sleeve covered the mark. Hermione knew it was there. If she could see the punctures from Nagini’s bite then she knew his glamour was dissolved. All she had wanted ever since she’d tumbled into bed with the man was to be exposed to him in all his rawness. Only she had never once pictured it would be anything like this. 

There was an unending silence. His panting and her panting were the only sounds inside his squalid little bedroom, which was rank with the scent of her sick staining the sheets. It was some time before she was able to bring herself to draw her wand and clean it up. But even after such a time, she could not find her voice, she could not find words. A little while longer and she watched him slump back, sliding down the length of the door until he was seated on the floor of his small bedroom. The pensieve was upturned, silvery dribbles of his memory clinging to the lip and a bit more resting on the floorboards. She longed to clean it up, to upright the cauldron. But no amount of cleaning up spilled memories or uprighting overturned cauldrons was going to fix him or her in that moment, or perhaps ever. 

“For years I moved to put that behind me,” his whisper broke the silence sometime later. His eyes were closed, though his face was somehow relaxed, though still void of most color. “There were dozens…” his voice was a hoarse crackle of words choked with feeling. “Or more, you stop counting after a while…” Severus sniffled, slowly drawing his knees up to his chest, letting his arms rest atop them. “I never…” he shook his head slowly. “A side of myself…unspeakable…unforgiveable…” he snorted softly. “And yet you still thought…” he shook his head again. When his eyes opened, she noted their wetness, their redness, their broken emptiness. She choked back a sob. “You still believed that I was capable— that I would…” he shook his head once more. “Perhaps you’ve always thought that I might—”

“No!” she cried in haste. “No— I— I don’t know what came over me,” she whimpered. “You were furious— I’d never seen you so furious— and I was stubborn— I just— and then those snippets of memory from that night after that blasted lavender chocolate— I had only—” she realized her jumbled words were making little sense. “No, Severus,” she said, trying with all her might to keep her voice from quaking. “I know what I said, but I wasn’t myself in that moment— I don’t believe that you would— that you could—”

“Rape you?” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. They were awash in tears. It was unsettling. It made her more uncomfortable than when he’d pinned her to the ground in his fury. Her insides quivered and she felt on the verge of spewing again though she knew there was nothing left in her stomach to puke. She bit her lip, desperately trying to clear her mind, desperately trying to pull some semblance of sanity to the forefront of her existence in that moment. 

“I—” she choked. “I…” but there were no words. Nothing she could say or think to say seemed to be of any use. In that moment she hadn’t been herself, a panic with which she was unacquainted had swept through her seizing her conscious mind, and in that moment it was another young witch scrabbling beneath him on the living room floor, crying out. Not Hermione Granger, she had not been there. Only she had, and it had been her, and those words had left her mouth in true and honest fear. And on some level some part of her must have believed it was possible. She hated herself for that feeling. That some part of her was so overcome by fear that she actually believed it possible that he was going to rape her. 

Hermione Granger had gotten her wish in the worst way possible. She had broken him completely. She had wanted to break him, dreamed of all the little ways she could crack open that coarse, guarded exterior, even further than she already had, and nestle her way into him. But never in her wildest imagination had she expected it to look like this. The old saying of be careful what you wish for taunted her violently from inside her head. If ever there had been a moment where she had felt that the world would be better off without her existence, it was that moment. 

In a fit of madness or insanity or perhaps just sheer, blind desperation, Hermione forced herself to her feet. Her hands quaked as she stepped over to where he sat slumped against the door, and she trembled, murmuring the spell that released her from her glamour. She tried in vain to roll up her sleeve and in the end ripped her blouse off, leaving her in just a bra as she knelt before him, pressing her arm forward against his chest, her forearm bared upward. They were far beyond the point of baring scars and exposing flesh to one another. This was irretrievably deeper than that. But Hermione’s mind was fair frizzled and long past processing things sensibly. She felt warm drops upon her forearm. Tears that fell gently from his face and onto her skin, and she sniffled, trying to keep herself from breaking into full on hysterics. 

There were no words, only trembling bodies and tears, both his and hers. They didn’t touch one another so much as they were collapsed into one another. He did not hold her; she did not cling to him. But rather Hermione’s head fell against his shoulder, her forearm against his chest. His chin and face lulled against the top of her head. And they cried. Quietly, mostly, just trembling gasps of breath and hot tears flowing steadily from their eyes until they both, within moments of one another, had fallen asleep. 

**~**

So lost in replaying every single second of the nightmare that had become her waking life in the last two weeks she had not heard the shower curtain, nor his step as he moved out of the shower. The water was still running but she hadn’t noticed that either. But when his stare was all but penetrating her flesh and the chill of it caught her attention, she blushed. It was not a furious stare nor an annoyed one. He wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t anything; he just stared at her. 

Hermione didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t explain why she was standing there wrapped in a towel in the bathroom any more than she could explain why she’d cried out begging him not to rape her that night. She was lost. She expected him to reprimand her or to throw her out. To tell her to get in or perhaps to draw her into his arms. Or at least she would have had things not changed between them. Now he stood, one leg in the tub, the other standing out of it, hot water and steam splattering everywhere. Her throat pinched tightly; there was nothing for it. The fight-or-flight response, which always seemed to conveniently forget the third ‘F’ of freezing, had her frozen to the spot, staring at his eyes as they stared at her body, hidden by the towel. 

He had seen every inch of her body. Severus knew her body more intimately than she herself did. And she knew his body, perhaps not as well as he knew hers, but she knew his body and how it felt with her body and how his body moved when she touched him or when she licked him. Or at least she had known his body. They had not so much as brushed aside one another since the night in the pensieve; they had barely exchanged words, let alone glances. This was the first time they had been even close to being naked in the same space since testing the dreaded chocolates and she had no idea what to do. She couldn’t bring herself to drop the towel, half afraid she might then have to somehow join him in the shower and half afraid that he might rebuke her for the gesture. Her mind was thundering with theories and fears and she could not quiet them enough to make sense out of any one thought. 

Hermione knew they couldn’t stand there frozen in time forever with the hot water blasting in the shower. Though she had, some time ago, fixed the enchantment on the pipes to keep them from running cold. She could feel her lips pursing, her mouth opening slightly as if to speak, only no words came out when she did. She wanted to step forward, or to be told to get out. Or taunted like he had once done. But now the only sound in the bathroom was the running water. She watched his face carefully, still uncertain as to what to say or do. 

“George…” she began but trailed off. 

“George?” he asked, one slender black eyebrow quirking up on his forehead. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. 

“George and fuck,” he repeated. “You don’t speak for a fortnight and your first words are George and fuck,” he said plainly. It lacked the acerbic bite so often poised with his words. He held her gaze hard, never once letting his eyes fall from hers. But it drove her to look away from him. She cast her eyes downward and in the process caught a glimpse of his flaccid manhood, resting just between his thighs.

She felt all of the nerve draining from her being. What on earth had prompted her to start off with George? And why on earth couldn’t she just say what she was feeling? That she was mortified at what had happened, that she was sorrier than words would ever allow her to be, that she didn’t believe he was a monster, that she didn’t truly believe he would rape her or that she had been in danger. Hermione had so many things she needed to say. And before— before he would have simply slipped into her mind. She could have railed furiously at him for doing so but at least he could have seen all there was that needed to be spoken that she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Now, he simply stared. 

“Severus…” she tried, but the hard glance which had shifted somehow into a more withering glare put her right off her words. 

“Going to say your own name for good measure?” Severus asked. 

Hermione groaned, frustrated by his inane comment, but even more frustrated that she could not bring herself to speak properly. She would have sworn that she’d been under some tongue-twisting jinx had she not known better. She could feel her face flushing with her frustration, willing herself for all that she was worth to produce her mind’s scrambled thoughts as audible words. “You—” she tried once more but was quelled at his sigh. 

“Go,” he said and turned back to the shower, stepping fully back into it. “Whatever it is, you clearly cannot bring yourself to say it, and if it is of pressing life or death matters, I suppose what or whomever depends upon its delivery shall die whilst your tongue lulls idle.” Again his words lacked bluster, bite, and heart. It unnerved her all the more to hear what should have been Severus’ words but only as a shell. Without the serpentine bite that she had grown fond of, it was just unsettling. 

The words stammered out of her lips before she could help herself. “George is worried.” 

His back tensed. And for a moment she expected him to scoff. She expected something, anything, even if she didn’t know what. And then his shoulders wilted ever so slightly and he leaned further into the spray. “Weasley is worried,” he repeated, half-heartedly. “How touching,” he added.   
“Severus—” she pleaded. 

“I heard you. First breech of silence in two weeks for the earth-shattering memo that Weasley is worried.” Severus turned his head over his shoulder, his eyes searching her face. “Not Weasley is sorry, or Weasley is a childish prat who can’t keep control of himself, or Weasley wishes he could take it all back,” he grumbled. “But Weasley is worried.” Hermione could feel her heart exploding in her chest at his bitter words. “Be sure and tell Mr. Weasley that he has nothing to worry about.” And without another word, he drew the curtain hard shut around the shower. 

A different Hermione in another time and place would have marched directly to the shower curtain, yanked it back, and growled at him for ignoring her. That different Hermione would have stepped into the shower and insinuated their bodies together until he was growling at the edge of losing control over the situation. And then they would have fucked. He would have sucked the hollow of her neck and she would have cried out, bucking her hips frantically against him until he pressed fingers into her or thrust his throbbing cock inside of her. The memory of that intense, ardent passion with which he fucked was never more than a blink from the forefront of her mind. She shivered. 

But that Hermione was not the Hermione that stood now, facing the drawn shower curtain, still naked and feeling foolish. And that ardent, virile lover was not the man that stood behind that drawn shower curtain. She was convinced she’d killed that man. Tears were once again creeping down her cheeks and Hermione pawed at her eyes furiously. It was a wonder she hadn’t dehydrated her body with all the crying she’d done as of late. With a hard sniffle, she turned to storm out of the bathroom door, but not before shouting at him. 

“I’m going to George’s— I’m calling it off. Damn the whole thing. Damn me! And damn you!” she cried before swiftly slamming the door. 

Hermione wasted little time with dressing, and in half a clock tick had apparated to Diagon Alley. Though it took her far longer to muster up the courage to storm into the joke shop the way her barked words had intended. George had closed up shop, but she could see him fiddling about with displays in one of the windows. He hadn’t yet caught sight of her and so much the better. The fury that had fueled her words in the bathroom had melted from her and now she had no idea what she was doing. George would be crushed. The product line was solid, but he’d put his name and reputation on the line for the convention. Whole worlds of witches and wizards were expecting demonstrations and product samples. And how could she possibly explain to George why she had to call the whole thing off? She couldn’t very well tell him what had transpired between her and Severus. 

She chewed the bottom of her lip to the point of breaking the skin, and winced when that blossom of blood dripped into her mouth. Sucking her lip, she sighed, and steeled what little she had left of her nerves. With the special wards up, she muttered a password and slipped into the joke shop. She could just see a fiery tuft of red hair poking out from behind a display of Skiving Snackboxes. Hermione was about to speak but George beat her to it. “That you, Hermione? Thank Merlin! Pop on up, I’ll be up in a tick.” 

She was numb. She should have spoken up, should have said that there was no need, but there were no words, only a vigorous nodding of her head, which made no sound at all. Perhaps this was now her life, a life with no words or ability to speak. That was going to take some getting used to. With every step she took toward the staircase that led up to the workshop, the knot in her stomach tightened. Her heartbeat had slowed; the heavy thump rattling her chest as she climbed. 

The warehouse felt like an empty cavern. She could hardly bring herself to look at the bed. But before she could even begin to think, the door flew open and in bounded George. “Right,” he said with his lopsided grin. “I think I’ve got everything we’ll need for the convention this weekend. Just got the owl after you’d left earlier with the arrangements for lodging and things— and can you believe it? They want to add a fourth session!” George was bursting with glee as he spoke at speed. “Honestly, I think that another presenter must have dropped out or something, they were very coy about how they wangled the phrasing, but it doesn’t matter! Four sessions! I mean— that’s just— that’s nuts! I’ve been to Jolly Jokesters over the years and if you’re lucky you get two— if you’re astounding you get three. There’s just so much going on in the way of joke products these days…the war really saw to that! Everyone wants to be amused— but four— four! Four, Hermione! Can you believe it? Four!” 

Four was starting to sound like not-a-word the way George kept saying it. This pushed the iron knot in the pit of her stomach up into her throat. She could feel her heart racing, her lungs crumpling inward. He was so overjoyed and she was about to ruin it. “George…” she hung her head. “There’s something you should—”

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger,” the voice of Severus Snape stunned her on the spot. She could scarcely believe her ears let alone her eyes as he strode into the workshop, his cloak billowing behind him as it had done so many years ago in the dungeons of Hogwarts. 

“Ah!” George cried. “All sorted then?” he grinned. “Your emergency, Severus?” But a curt nod in silence was the only response George Weasley received. “Excellent, I was beginning to get worried— oh stuff it— you’re here now and we’ve still got a few days to get this sorted.” He clapped his hands together. “Merlin’s beard, we’ve got so much to do and so very little time in which to do it, so let’s get to it then, shall we?”


End file.
